The Inferno
by TheAutisticDuo
Summary: Inferno opens on the evening of Good Friday in the year 1300. Traveling through a dark wood, Dante Alighieri has lost his path and now wanders fearfully through the forest. The sun shines down on a mountain above him, and he attempts to climb up to it but finds his way blocked by three beasts—a leopard, a lion, and Hitler.


INFERNO

CANTO 1

MIDWAY upon the journey of our life  
I found myself within a forest dark,  
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.

Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say  
What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,  
Which in the very thought renews the fear.

So bitter is it, death is little more;  
But of the good to treat, which there I found,  
Speak will I of the other things I saw there.

I cannot well repeat how there I entered,  
So full was I of slumber at the moment  
In which I had abandoned the true way.

But after I had reached a mountain's foot,  
At that point where the valley terminated,  
Which had with consternation pierced my heart,

Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders  
Vested already with that planet's rays  
Which leadeth others right by every road.

Then was the fear a little quieted  
That in my heart's lake had endured throughout  
The night, which I had passed so piteously

And even as he, who, with distressful breath,  
Forth issued from the sea upon the shore,  
Turns to the water perilous and gazes;

So did my soul, that still was fleeing onward,  
Turn itself back to re-behold the pass  
Which never yet a living person left.

After my weary body I had rested,  
The way resumed I on the desert slope,  
So that the firm foot ever was the lower.

And lo! almost where the ascent began,  
A panther light and swift exceedingly,  
Which with a spotted skin was covered o'er!

And never moved she from before my face,  
Nay, rather did impede so much my way,  
That many times I to return had turned.

The time was the beginning of the morning,  
And up the sun was mounting with those stars  
That with him were, what time the Love Divine

At first in motion set those beauteous things;  
So were to me occasion of good hope,  
The variegaled skin of that wild beast,

The hour of time, and the delicious season;  
But not so much, that did not give me fear  
A lion's aspect which appeared to me.

He seemed as if against me he were coming  
With head uplifted, and with ravenous hunger,  
So that it seemed the air was afraid of him;

And a she-wolf, that with all hungerings  
Seemed to be laden in her meagreness,  
And many folk has caused to live forlorn!

She brought upon me so much heaviness,  
With the affright that from her aspect came,  
That I the hope relinquished of the height.

And as he is who willingly acquires  
And the time comes that causes him to lose,  
Who weeps in all his thoughts and is despondent,

E'en such made me that beast withouten peace,  
Which, coming on against me by degrees  
Thrust me back thither where the sun is silent

While I was rushing downward to the lowland,  
Before mine eyes did one present himself,  
Who seemed from long-continued silence hoarse.

When I beheld him in the desert vast,  
"Have pity on me," unto him I cried,  
"Whiche'er thou art, or shade or real man!"

He answered me: "Not man; man once I was,  
And both my parents were of Lombardy,  
And Mantuans by country both of them.

Sub Julio was I born, though it was late,  
And lived at Rome under the good Augustus,  
During the time of false and Iying gods.

A poet was I, and I sang that just  
Son of Anchises, who came forth from Troy,  
After that Ilion the superb was burned

But thou, why goest thou back to such annoyance?  
Why climb'st thou not the Mount Delectable  
Which is the source and cause of every joy?"

"Now, art thou that Virgilius and that fountain  
Which spreads abroad so wide a river of speech?  
I made response to him with bashful forehead.

"O, of the other poets honour and light,  
Avail me the long study and great love  
That have impelled me to explore thy volume!

Thou art my master, and my author thou,  
Thou art alone the one from whom I took  
The beautiful style that has done honour to me.

Behold the beast, for which I have turned back;  
Do thou protect me from her, famous Sage,  
For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble.'

"Thee it behoves to take another road,"  
Responded he, when he beheld me weeping,  
"If from this savage place thou wouldst escape;

Because this beast, at which thou criest out,  
Suffers not any one to pass her way,  
But so doth harass him, that she destroys him;

And has a nature so malign and ruthless,  
That never doth she glut her greedy will,  
And after food is hungrier than before.

Many the animals with whom she weds,  
And more they shall be still, until the Greyhound  
Comes, who shall make her perish in her pain.

He shall not feed on either earth or pelf,  
But upon wisdom, and on love and virtue;  
'Twixt Feltro and Feltro shall his nation be;

Of that low Italy shall he be the saviour,  
On whose account the maid Camilla died,  
Euryalus, Turnus, Nisus, of their wounds;

Through every city shall he hunt her down,  
Until he shall have driven her back to Hell,  
There from whence envy first did let her loose.

Therefore I think and judge it for thy best  
Thou follow me, and I will be thy guide,  
And lead thee hence through the eternal place,

Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations,  
Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate,  
Who cry out each one for the second death;

And thou shalt see those who contented are  
Within the fire, because they hope to come,  
Whene'er it may be, to the blessed people;

To whom, then, if thou wishest to ascend,  
A soul shall be for that than I more worthy;  
With her at my departure I will leave thee;

Because that Emperor, who reigns above,  
In that I was rebellious to his law,  
Wills that through me none come into his city.

Governs evervwhere and there he reigns:  
There is his city and his lofty throne;  
O happy he whom thereto he elects!"

And I to him: " Poet, I thee entreat,  
By that same God whom thou didst never know,  
So that I may escape this woe and worse,

Thou wouldst conduct me there where thou hast said,  
That I may see the portal of Saint Peter,  
And those thou makest so disconsolable."

Then he moved on, and I behind him followed.

CANTO 2

DAY was departing, and the embrowned air  
Released the animals that are on earth  
From their fatigues; and I the only one

Made myself ready to sustain the war,  
Both of the way and likewise of the woe,  
Which memory shall retrace, that erreth not.

O Muses, O high genius, now assist me!  
O memory, that didst write dowll what I saw,  
Here thy nobility shall be manifest!

And I began: "Poet, who guidest me,  
Regard my manhood, if it be sufficient.  
Ere to the arduous pass thou dost confide me.

Thou sayest, that of Silvius the parent,  
While yet corruptible, unto the world  
Immortal went, and was there bodily.

But if the adversary of all evil  
Was courteous, thinking of the high effect  
That issue would from him, and who, and what,

To men of intellect unmeet it seems not;  
For he was of great Rome, and of her empire  
In the empyreal heaven as father chosen;

The which and what, wishing to speak the truth,  
Were stablished as the ho]y place, wherein  
Sits the successor of the greatest Peter.

Upon this journey, whence thou givest him vaunt,  
Things did he hear, which the occasion were  
Both of his victory and the papal mantle.

Thither went afterwards the Chosen Vessel,  
To bring back comfort thence unto that Faith,  
Which of salvation's way is the beginning.

But I, why thither come, or who concedes it?  
I not Aenas am, I am not Paul,  
Nor I, nor others, think me worthy of it.

Therefore, if I resign myself to come,  
I fear the coming may be ill-advised;  
Thou'rt wise, and knowest better than I speak."

And as he is, who unwills what he willed,  
And by new thoughts doth his intention change,  
So that from his design he quite withdraws,

Such I became, upon that dark hillside,  
Because, in thinking, I consumed the emprise,  
Which was so very prompt in the beginning.

"If I have well thy language understood,"  
Replied that shade of the Magnanimous,  
"Thy soul attainted is with cowardice,

Which many times a man encumbers so,  
It turns him back from honoured enterprise,  
As false sight doth a beast, when he is shy.

That thou mayst free thee from this apprehension,  
I'll tell thee why I came, and what I heard  
At the first moment when I grieved for thee.

Among those was I who are in suspense,  
And a fair, saintly Lady called to me  
In such wise, I besought her to command me.

Her eyes where shining brighter than the Star;  
And she began to say, gentle and low,  
With voice angelical, in her own language

'O spirit courteous of Mantua,  
Of whom the fame still in the world endures,  
And shall endure, long-lasting as the world;

A friend of mine, and not the friend of fortune,  
Upon the desert slope is so impeded  
Upon his way, that he has turned through terror,

And may, I fear, already be so lost,  
That I too late have risen to his succour,  
From that which I have heard of him in Heaven.

Bestir thee now, and with thy speech ornate,  
And with what needful is for his release,  
Assist him so, that I may be consoled.

Beatrice am I, who do bid thee go;  
I come from there, where I would fain return;  
Love moved me, which compelleth me to speak.

When I shall be in presence of my Lord,  
Full often will I praise thee unto him.'  
Then paused she, and thereafter I began:

'O Lady of virtue, thou alone through whom  
The human race exceedeth all contained  
Within the heaven that has the lesser circles,

So grateful unto me is thy commandment,  
To obey, if 'twere already done, were late;  
No farther need'st thou ope to me thy wish.

But the cause tell me why thou dost not shun  
The here descending down into this centre,  
From the vast place thou burnest to return to.'

'Since thou wouldst fain so inwardly discern,  
Briefly will I relate,'she answered me,  
'Why I am not afraid to enter here.

Of those things only should one be afraid  
Which have the power of doing others harm;  
Of the rest, no; because they are not fearful.

God in his mercy such created me  
That misery of yours attains me not,  
Nor any flame assails me of this burning

Gentle Lady is in Heaven, who grieves  
At this impediment, to which I send thee,  
So that stern judgment there above is broken.

In her entreaty she besought Lucia,  
And said, " Thy faithful one now stands in need  
Of thee, and unto thee I recommend him."

Lucia, a, foe of all that cruel is,  
Hastened away, and came unto the place  
Where I was sitting with the ancient Rachel.

"Beatrice" said she, " the true praise of God,  
Why succourest thou not him, who loved thee so,  
For thee he issued from the vulgar herd?

Dost thou not hear the pity of his plaint?  
Dost thou not see the death that combats him  
Beside that flood, where ocean has no vaunt?"

Never were persons in the world so swift  
To work their weal and to escape their woe,  
As I, after such words as these were uttered,

Came hither downward from my blessed seat  
Confiding in thy dignified discourse,  
Which honours thee, and those who've listened to it.'

After she thus had spoken unto me,  
Weeping, her shining eyes she turned away;  
Whereby she made me swifter in my coming;

And unto thee I came, as she desired;  
I have delivered thee from that wild beast,  
Which barred the beautiful mountain's short ascent.

What is it, then ? Why, why dost thou delay?  
Why is such baseness bedded in thy heart?  
Daring and hardihood why hast thou not,

Seeing that three such Ladies benedight  
Are caring for thee in the court of Heaven,  
And so much good my speech doth promise thee ?"

Even as the flowerets, by nocturnal chill,  
Bowed down and closed, when the sun whitens them,  
Uplift themselves all open on their stems;

Such I became with my exhausted strength,  
And such good courage to my heart there coursed,  
That I began, like an intrepid person:

"O she compassionate, who succoured me,  
And courteous thou, who hast obeyed so soon  
The words of truth which she addressed to thee!

Thou hast my heart so with desire disposed  
To the adventure, with these words of thine,  
That to my first intent I have returned.

Now go, for one sole will is in us both,  
Thou Leader, and thou Lord, and Master thou."  
Thus said I to him; and when he had moved,

I entered on the deep and savage way.

CANTO 3

Through me the way is to the city dolent;  
Through me the way is to eternal dole;  
Through me the way among the people lost.

Justice incited my sublime Creator;  
Created me divine Omnipotence,  
The highest Wisdom and the primal Love.

Before me there were no created things,  
Only eterne, and I eternal last.  
All hope abandon, ye who enter in!"

These words in sombre colour I beheld  
Written upon the summit of a gate;  
Whence I: "Their sense is, Master, hard to me!"

And he to me, as one experienced:  
"Here all suspicion needs must be abandoned,  
All cowardice must needs be here extinct.

We to the place have come, where I have told thee  
Thou shalt behold the people dolorous  
Who have foregone the good of intellect."

And after he had laid his hand on mine  
With joyful mien, whence I was comforted,  
He led me in among the secret things.

There sighs, complaints, and ululations loud  
Resounded through the air without a star,  
Whence I, at the beginning, wept thereat.

Languages diverse, horrible dialects,  
Accents of anger, words of agony,  
And voices high and hoarse, with sound of hands,

Made up a tumult that goes whirling on  
For ever in that air for ever black,  
Even as the sand doth, when the whirlwind breathes.  
And I, who had my head with horror bound,  
Said:"Master, what is this which now I hear?  
What folk is this, which seems by pain so vanquished?"

And he to me:"This miserable mode  
Maintain the melancholy souls of those  
Who lived withouten infamy or praise.

Commingled are they with that caitiff choir  
Of Angels, who have not rebellious been,  
Nor faithful were to God, but were for self.

The heavens expelled them, not to be less fair;  
Nor them the nethermore abyss receives,  
For glory none the damned would have from them."

And I: "O Master, what so grievous is  
To these, that maketh them lament so sore?"  
He answered: " I will tell thee very briefly.

These have no longer any hope of death;  
And this blind life of theirs is so debased,  
They envious are of every other fate.

No fame of them the world permits to be;  
Misericord and Justice both disdain them.  
Let us not speak of them, but look, and pass."

And I, who looked again, beheld a banner,  
Which, whirling round, ran on so rapidly,  
That of all pause it seemed to me indignant;

And after it there came so long a train  
Of people, that I ne'er would have believed  
That ever Death so many had undone.

When some among them I had recognised.  
I looked, and I beheld the shade of him  
Who made through cowardice the great refusal.

Forthwith I comprehended, and was certain,  
That this the sect was of the caitiff wretches  
Hateful to God and to his enemies.

These miscreants, who never were alive,  
Were naked, and were stung exceedingly  
By gadflies and by hornets that were there.

These did their faces irrigate with blood,  
Which, with their tears commingled, at their feet  
By the disgusting worms was gathered up.

And when to gazing farther I betook me.  
People I saw on a great river's bank;  
Whence said I: " Master, now vouchsafe to me,

That I may know who these are, and what law  
Makes them appear so ready to pass over,  
As I discern athwart the dusky light."  
And he to me: "These things shall all be known  
To thee, as soon as we our footsteps stay  
Upon the dismal shore of Acheron."

Then with mine eyes ashamed and downward cast,  
Fearing my words might irksome be to him,  
From speech refrained I till we reached the river.

And lo! towards us coming in a boat  
An old man, hoary with the hair of eld,  
Crying: " Woe unto you, ye souls depraved

Hope nevermore to look upon the heavens;  
I come to lead you to the other shore,  
To the eternal shades in heat and frost.

And thou, that yonder standest, living soul,  
Withdraw thee from these people, who are dead-  
But when he saw that I did not withdraw,

He said:"By other ways, by other ports  
Thou to the shore shalt come, not here, for,passage;  
A lighter vessel needs must carry thee."

And unto him the Guide:"Vex thee not, Charon;  
It is so willed there where is power to do  
That which is willed; and farther question not."

There at were quieted the fleecy cheeks  
Of him the ferryman of the livid fen,  
Who round about his eyes had wheels of flame.  
But all those souls who weary were and naked  
Their colour changed and gnashed their teeth together,  
As soon as they had heard those cruel words.

God they blasphemed and their progenitors,  
The human race, the place, the time, the seed  
Of their engendering and of their birth!

Thereafter all together they drew back,  
Bitterly weeping, to the accursed shore,  
Which waiteth every man who fears not God.

Charon the demon, with the eyes of glede,  
Beckoning to them, collects them all together,  
Beats with his oar whoever lags behind.

As in the autumn-time the leaves fall off,  
First one and then another, till the branch  
Unto the earth surrenders all its spoils;

In similar wise the evil seed of Adam  
Throw themselves from that margin one by one,  
At signals, as a bird unto its lure.

So they depart across the dusky wave,  
And ere upon the other side they land,  
Again on this side a new troop assembles.

"My son,"the courteous Master said to me,  
"All those who perish in the wrath of God  
Here meet together out of every land;

And ready are they to pass o'er the river,  
Because celestial Justice spurs them on,  
So that their fear is turned into desire.

This way there never passes a good soul;  
And hence if Charon doth complain of thee  
Well mayst thou know now what his speech imports."

This being finished, all the dusk champaign  
Trembled so violently, that of that terror  
The recollection bathes me still with sweat.

The land of tears gave forth a blast of wind,  
And fulminated a vermilion light,  
'Which overmastered in me every sense,

And as a man whom sleep hath seized I fell.

CANTO 4

BROKEthe deep lethargy within my head  
A heavy thunder, so that I upstarted,  
Like to a person who by force is wakened;

And round about I moved my rested eyes,  
Uprisen erect, and steadfastly I gazed,  
To recognise the place wherein I was.

True is it, that upon the verge I found me  
Of the abysmal valley dolorous,  
That gathers thunder of infinite ululations.

Obscure, profound it was, and nebulous,  
So that by fixing on its depths my sight  
Nothing whatever I discerned therein.

"Let us descend now into the blind world,"  
Began the Poet, pallid utterly;  
"I will be first, and thou shalt second be."

And I, who of his colour was aware,  
Said:"How shall I come, if thou art afraid,  
Who'rt wont to be a comfort to my fears?"

And he to me:"The anguish of the people  
Who are below here in my face depicts  
That pity which for terror thou hast taken.

Let us go on, for the long way impels us."  
Thus he went in, and thus he made me enter  
The foremost circle that surrounds the abyss.

There, as it seemed to me from listening,  
Were lamentations none, but only sighs,  
That tremble made the everlasting air.

And this arose from sorrow without torment,  
Which the crowds had, that many were and great  
Of infants and of women and of men.

To me the Master good: "Thou dost not ask  
What spirits these, which thou beholdest, are?  
Now will I have thee know, ere thou go farther,

That they sinned not; and if they merit had,  
'Tis not enough, because they had not baptism  
Which is the portal of the Faith thou holdest;

And if they were before Christianity,  
In the right manner they adored not God;  
And among such as these am I myself

For such defects, and not for other guilt,  
Lost are we and are only so far punished,  
That without hope we live on in desire."

Great grief seized on my heart when this I heard,  
Because some people of much worthiness  
I knew, who in that Limbo were suspended.

"Tell me, my Master, tell me, thou my Lord,"  
Began I, with desire of being certain  
Of that Faith which o'ercometh every error,

"Came any one by his own merit hence,  
Or by another s, who was blessed thereafter?"  
And he, who understood my covert speech,

Replied:"I was a novice in this state,  
When I saw hither come a Mighty One,  
With sign of victory incoronate.

Hence he drew forth the shade of the First  
And that of his son Abel, and of Noah,  
Of Moses the lawgiver, and the obedient

Abraham, patriarch, and David, king,  
Israel with his father and his children,  
And Rachel, for whose sake he did so much,

And others many, and he made them blessed;  
And thou must know, that earlier than these  
Never were any human spirits saved."

We ceased not to advance because he spake,  
But still were passing onward through the forest  
The forest, say I, of thick-crowded ghosts.

Not very far as yet our way had gone  
This side the summit, when I saw a fire  
That overcame a hemisphere of darkness.

We were a little distant from it still,  
But not so far that I in part discerned not  
That honourable people held that place.

"O thou who honourest every art and science,  
Who may these be, which such great honour have,  
That from the fashion of the rest it parts them?"

And he to me:"The honourable name,  
That sounds of them above there in thy life,  
Wins grace in Heaven, that so advances them."

In the mean time a voice was heard by me:  
"All honour be to the pre-eminent Poet;  
His shade returns again, that was departed."

After the voice had ceased and quiet was,  
Four mighty shades I saw approaching us;  
Semblance had they nor sorrowful nor glad.

To say to me began my gracious Master:  
"Him with that falchion in his hand behold,  
Who comes before the three, even as their lord.

That one is Homer, Poet sovereign;  
He who comes next is Horace, the satirist;  
The third is Ovid, and the last is Lucan.

Because to each of these with me applies  
The name that solitary voice proclaimed,  
They do me honour, and in that do well."

Thus I beheld assemble the fair school  
Of that lord of the song pre-eminent,  
Who o'er the others like an eagle soars.

When they together had discoursed somewhat,  
They turned to me with signs of salutation,  
And on beholding this, my Master smiled;

And more of honour still, much more, they did me,  
In that they made me one of their own ban  
So that the sixth was I, 'mid so much wit.

Thus we went on as far as to the light,  
Things saying 'tis becoming to keep silent,  
As was the saying of them where I was.

We came unto a noble castle's foot,  
Seven times encompassed with lofty walls,  
Defended round by a fair rivulet;

This we passed over even as firm ground;  
Through portals seven I entered with these  
We came into a meadow of fresh verdure.

People were there with solemn eyes and slow,  
Of great authority in their countenance;  
They spake but seldom, and with gentle voices.

Thus we withdrew ourselves upon one side  
Into an opening luminous and lofty,  
So that they all of them were visible.

There opposite, upon the green enamel,  
Were pointed out to me the mighty spirits,  
Whom to have seen I feel myself exalted.

I saw Electra with companions many,  
'Mongst whom I knew both Hector and Aenas,  
Caesar in armour with gerfalcon eyes;

I saw Camilla and Penthesilea  
On the other side, and saw the King Latinus,  
Who with Lavinia his daughter sat;

I saw that Brutus who drove Tarquin forth,  
Lucretia, Julia, Marcia, and Cornelia,  
And saw alone, apart, the Saladin.

When I had lifted up my brows a little,  
The Master I beheld of those who know,  
Sit with his philosophic family.

All gaze upon him, and all do him honour.  
There I beheld both Socrates and Plato,  
Who nearer him before the others stand;

Democritus, who puts the world on chance,  
Diogenes, Anaxagoros, and Thales,  
Zeno, Empedocles, and Heraclitus;

Of qualities I saw the good collector,  
Hight Dioscorides; and Orpheus saw I,  
Tully and Livy, and moral Seneca,

Euclid, geometrician, and Ptolemy,  
Galen, Hippocrates, and Avicenna,  
Averroes, who the great Comment made.

I cannot all of them pourtray in full,  
Because so drives me onward the long theme,  
That many times the word comes short of fact.

The sixfold company in two divides;  
Another way my sapient Guide conducts me  
Forth from the quiet to the air that trembles;

And to a place I come where nothing shines.

CANTO 5

Thus descended out of the first circle  
Down to the second, that less space begirds,  
And so much greater dole, that goads to wailing.

There standeth Minos horribly, and snarls;  
Examines the transgressions at the entrance;  
Judges, and sends according as he girds him.

I say, that when the spirit evil-born  
Cometh before him, wholly it confesses;  
And this discriminator of transgressions

Seeth what place in Hell is meet for it;  
Girds himself with his tail as many times  
As grades he wishes it should be thrust down.

Always before him many of them stand;  
They go by turns each one unto the judgment;  
They speak, and hear, and then are downward hurled.

"O thou, that to this dolorous hostelry  
Comest," said Minos to me, when he saw me,  
Leaving the practice of so great an office,

"Look how thou enterest, and in whom thou trustest;  
Let not the portal's amplitude deceive thee."  
And unto him my Guide: " Why criest thou too?

Do not impede his journey fate-ordained;  
It is so willed there where is power to oo  
That which is willed; and ask no further question."

And now begin the dolesome notes to grow  
Audible unto me, now am I come  
There where much lamentation strikes upon me.

I came into a place mute of all light,  
Which bellows as the sea does in a tempest,  
If by opposing winds 't is combated.

The infernal hurricane that never rests  
Hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine;  
Whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them.

When they arrive before the precipice,  
There are the shrieks, the plaints, and the laments,  
There they blaspheme the puissance divine.

I understood that unto such a torment  
The carnal malefactors were condemned,  
Who reason subjugate to appetite.

And as the wings of starlings bear them on  
In the cold season in large band and full,  
So doth that blast the spirits maledict;

It hither, thither, downward, upward, drives them;  
No hope doth comfort them for evermore,  
Not of repose, but even of lesser pain.

And as the cranes go chanting forth their lays,  
Making in air a long line of themselves,  
So saw I coming, uttering lamentations,

Shadows borne onward by the aforesaid stress.  
Whereupon said I: "Master, who are those  
People, whom the black air so castigates?"

" The first of those, of whom intelligence  
Thou fain wouldst have," then said he unto me,  
"The empress was of many languages.

To sensual vices she was so abandoned,  
That lustful she made licit in her law,  
To remove the blame to which she had been led.

She is Semiramis of whom we read  
That she succeeded Ninus, and was his spouse;  
She held the land which now the Sultan rules.

The next is she who killed herself for love,  
And broke faith with the ashes of Sichcaeus;  
Then Cleopatra the voluptuous."

Helen I saw, for whom so many ruthless  
Seasons revolved; and saw the great Achilles,  
Who at the last hour combated with Love

Paris I saw, Tristan; and more than a thousand  
Shades did he name and point out with his finger,  
Whom Love had separated from our life.

After that I had listened to my Teacher,  
Naming the dames of eld and cavaliers,  
Pity prevailed, and I was nigh bewildered.

And I began: "O Poet, willingly  
Speak would I to those two, who go together,  
And seem upon the wind to be so light."

And, he to me: "Thou'lt mark, when they shall be  
Nearer to us; and then do thou implore them  
By love which leadeth them, and they will come."

Soon as the wind in our direction sways them,  
My voice uplift I: "O ye weary souls!  
Come speak to us, if no one interdicts it."

As turtle-doves, called onward by desire,  
With open and steady wings to the sweet nest  
Fly through the air by their volition borne,

So came they from the band where Dido is,  
Approaching us athwart the air malign,  
So strong was the affectionate appeal.

" O living creature gracious and benignant,  
Who visiting goest through the purple air  
Us, who have stained the world incarnadine,

If were the King of the Universe our friend,  
We would pray unto him to give thee peace,  
Since thou hast pity on our woe perverse.

Of what it pleases thee to hear and speak,  
That will we hear, and we will speak to you,  
While silent is the wind, as it is now.

Sitteth the city, wherein I was born,  
Upon the sea-shore where the Po descends  
To rest in peace with all his retinue.

Love, that on gentle heart doth swiftly seize,  
Seized this man for the person beautiful  
That was ta'en from me, and still the mode offends me.

Love, that exempts no one beloved from loving,  
Seized me with pleasure of this man so strongly,  
That, as thou seest, it doth not yet desert me;

Love has conducted us unto one death;  
Caina waiteth him who quenched our life!"  
These words were borne along from them to us.

As soon as I had heard those souls tormented,  
I bowed my face, and so long held it down  
Until the Poet said to me: "What thinkest?"

When I made answer, I began: "Alas!  
How many pleasant thoughts, how much desire,  
Conducted these unto the dolorous pass!"

Then unto them I turned me, and I spake,  
And I began: "Thine agonies, Francesca,  
Sad and compassionate to weeping make me.

But tell me, at the time of those sweet sighs,  
By what and in what manner Love conceded,  
That you should know your dubious desires?"

And she to me: "There is no greater sorrow  
Than to be mindful of the happy time  
In misery, and that thy Teacher knows.

But, if to recognise the earliest root  
Of love in us thou hast so great desire,  
I will do even as he who weeps and speaks.

One day we reading were for our delight  
Of Launcelot, how Love did him enthral.  
Alone we were and without any fear.

Full many a time our eyes together drew  
That reading, and drove the colour from our faces;  
But one point only was it that o'ercame us.

When as we read of the much-longed-for smile  
Being by such a noble lover kissed,  
This one, who ne'er from me shall be divided,

Kissed me upon the mouth all palpitating.  
Galeotto was the book and he who wrote it.  
That day no farther did we read therein."

And all the while one spirit uttered this,  
The other one did weep so, that, for pity,  
I swooned away as if I had been dying,

And fell, even as a dead body falls.

CANTO 6

AT the return of consciousness, that closed  
Before the pity of those two relations,  
Which utterly with sadness had confused me,

New torments I behold, and new tormented  
Around me, whichsoever way I move,  
And whichsoever way I turn, and gaze.

In the third circle am I of the rain  
Eternal, maledict, and cold, and heavy;  
Its law and quality are never new.

Huge hail, and water sombre-hued, and snow,  
Athwart the tenebrous air pour down amain;  
Noisome the earth is, that receiveth this.

Cerberus, monster cruel and uncouth,  
With his three gullets like a dog is barking  
Over the people that are there submerged.

Red eyes he has, and unctuous beard and black,  
And belly large, and armed with claws his hands;  
He rends the spirits, flays, and quarters them.

Howl the rain maketh them like unto dogs;  
One side they make a shelter for the other;  
Oft turn themselves the wretched reprobates.

When Cerberus perceived us, the great worm!  
His mouths he opened, and displayed his tusks;  
Not a limb had he that was motionless.

And my Conductor, with his spans extended,  
Took of the earth, and with his fists well filled,  
He threw it into those rapacious gullets.

Such as that dog is, who by barking craves,  
And quiet grows soon as his food he gnaws,  
For to devour it he but thinks and struggles,

The like became those muzzles filth-begrimed  
Of Cerberus the demon, who so thunders  
Over the souls that they would fain be deaf

We passed across the shadows, which subdues  
The heavy rain-storm, and we placed our feet  
Upon their vanity that person seems.

They all were Iying prone upon the earth,  
Excepting one, who sat upright as soon  
As he beheld us passing on before him.

"O thou that art conducted through this Hell,"  
He said to me. " recall me, if thou canst;  
Thyself wast made before I was unmade."

And I to him:"The anguish which thou hast  
Perhaps doth draw thee out of my remembrance,  
So that it seems not I have ever seen thee.

But tell me who thou art, that in so doleful  
A place art put, and in such punishment,  
If some are greater, none is so displeasing."

And he to me:"Thy city, which is full  
Of envy so that now the sack runs over,  
Held me within it in the life serene.

You citizens were wont to call me Ciacco;  
For the pernicious sin of gluttony  
I as thou seest, am hattered bv this rain

And I, sad soul, am not the only one,  
For all these suffer the like penalty  
For the like sin, " and word no more spake he.

I answered him:"Ciacco, thy wretchedness  
Weighs on me so that it to weep invites me;  
But tell me, if thou knowest, to what shall come

The citizens of the divided city;  
If any there be just; and the occasion  
Tell me why so much discord has assailed it."

And he to me:"They, after long contention,  
Will come to bloodshed; and the rustic party  
Will drive the other out with much offence.

Then afterwards behoves it this one fall  
Within three suns, and rise again the other  
By force of him who now is on the coast.

High will it hold its forehead a long while,  
Keeping the other under heavy burdens,  
Howe'er it weeps thereat and is indignant.

The just are two, and are not understood there;  
Envy and Arrogance and Avarice  
Are the three sparks that have all hearts enkindled."

Here ended he his tearful utterance;  
And I to him: " I wish thee still to teach me,  
And make a gift to me of further speech.

Farinata and Tegghiaio, once so worthy,  
Jacopo Rusticucci, Arrigo, and Mosca,  
And others who on good deeds set their thoughts,

Say where they are, and cause that I may know them;  
For great desire constraineth me to learn  
If Heaven doth sweeten them, or Hell envenom."

And he:"They are among the blacker souls;  
A different sin downweighs them to the bottom;  
If thou so far descendest, thou canst see them.

But when thou art again in the sweet world,  
I pray thee to the mind of others bring me;  
No more I tell thee and no more I answer."

Then his straightforward eyes he turned askance,  
Eyed me a little, and then bowed his head;  
He fell therewith prone like the other blind.

And the Guide said to me:"He wakes no more  
This side the sound of the angelic trumpet;  
When shall approach the hostile Potentate,

Each one shall find again his dismal tomb,  
Shall reassume his flesh and his own figure,  
Shall hear what through eternity re-echoes."

So we passed onward o'er the filthy mixture  
Of shadows and of rain with footsteps slow,  
Touching a little on the future life.

Wherefore I said:"Master, these torments here,  
Will they increase after the mighty sentence,  
Or lesser be, or will they be as burning?"

And he to me:"Return unto thy science,  
Which wills, that as the thing more perfect is,  
The more it feels of pleasure and of pain.

Albeit that this people maledict  
To true perfection never can attain,  
Hereafter more than now they look to be."

Round in a circle by that road we went,  
Speaking much more, which I do not repeat;  
We came unto the point where the descent is;

There we found Plutus the great enemy.

CANTO 7

"PAPE. Satan, Pape Satan, Aleppe!"  
Thus Plutus with his clucking voice began;  
And that benignant Sage, who all things knew,

Said, to encourage me:"Let not thy fear  
Harm thee; for any power that he may have  
Shall not prevent thy going down this crag "

Then he turned round unto that bloated lip,  
And said: "Be silent, thou accursed wolf;  
Consume within thyself with thine own rage.

Not causeless is this journey to the abyss;  
Thus is it willed on high, where Michael wrought  
Vengeance upon the proud adultery."

Even as the sails inflated by the wind  
Involved together fall when snaps the mast,  
So fell the cruel monster to the earth.

Thus we descended into the fourth chasm,  
Gaining still farther on the dolesome shore  
Which all the woe of the universe insacks.

Justice of God, ah ! who heaps up so many  
New toils and sufferings as I beheld?  
And why doth our transgression waste us so ?

As doth the billow there upon Charybdis,  
That breaks itself on that which it encounters,  
So here the folk must dance their roundelay.

Here saw I people, more than elsewhere, many,  
On one side and the other, with great howls,  
Rolling weights forward by main force of chest.

They clashed together, and then at that point  
Each one turned backward, rolling retrograde,  
Crying,"Why keepest?" and,"Why squanderest thou?"

Thus they returned along the lurid circle  
On either hand unto the opposite point,  
Shouting their shameful metre evermore.

Then each, when he arrived there, wheeled about  
Through his half-circle to another joust;  
And I, who had my heart pierced as it were,

Exclaimed:"My Master, now declare to me  
What people these are, and if all were clerks,  
These shaven crowns upon the left of us."

And he to me:"All of them were asquint  
In intellect in the first life, so much  
That there with measure they no spending made.

Clearly enough their voices bark it forth,  
Whene'er they reach the two points of the circle,  
Where sunders them the opposite defect.

Clerks those were who no hairy covering  
Have on the head, and Popes and Cardinals,  
In whom doth Avarice practise its excess."

And I:"My Master, among such as these  
I ought forsooth to recognise some few,  
Who were infected with these maladies."

And he to me:"Vain thought thou entertainest;  
The undiscerning life which made them sordid  
Now mal~es them unto all discernment dim.

Forever shall they come to these two buttings;  
These from the sepulchre shall rise again  
With the fist closed, and these with tresses shorn.

Ill giving and ill keeping the fair world  
Have ta'en from them, and placed them in this scuffle;  
Whate'er it be, no words adorn I for it.

Now canst thou, Son, behold the transient farce  
Of goods that are committed unto Fortune,  
For which the human race each other buffet;

For all the gold that is beneath the moon,  
Or ever has been, of these weary souls  
Could never make a single one repose."

"Master," I said to him, " now tell me also  
What is this Fortune which thou speakest of,  
That has the world's goods so within its clutches?"

And he to me:"O creatures imbecile,  
What ignorance is this which doth beset you?  
Now will I have thee learn my judgment of her.

He whose omniscience everything transcends  
The heavens created, and gave who should guide them,  
That every part to every part may shine,

Distributing the light in equal measure;  
He in like manner to the mundane splendours  
Ordained a general ministress and guide,

That she might change at times the empty treasures  
From race to race, from one blood to another,  
Beyond resistance of all human wisdom.

Therefore one people triumphs, and another  
Languishes, in pursuance of her judgment,  
Which hidden is, as in the grass a serpent.

Your knowledge has no counterstand against her;  
She makes provision, judges, and pursues  
Her governance, as theirs the other gods.

Her permutations have not any truce;  
Necessity makes her precipitate,  
So often cometh who his turn obtains.

And this is she who is so crucified  
Even by those who ought to give her praise,  
Giving her blame amiss, and bad repute.

But she is blissful, and she hears it not;  
Among the other primal creatures gladsome  
She turns her sphere, and blissful she rejoices.

Let us descend now unto greater woe;  
Already sinks each star that was ascending  
When I set out, and loitering is forbidden."

We crossed the circle to the other bank,  
Near to a fount that boils, and pours itself  
Along a gully that runs out of it.

The water was more sombre far than perse;  
And we, in company with the dusky waves,  
Made entrance downward by a path uncouth.

A marsh it makes, which has the name of Styx,  
This tristful brooklet, when it has descended  
Down to the foot of the malign gray shores.

And I, who stood intent upon beholding,  
Saw people mudbesprent in that lagoon,  
All of them naked and with angry look.

They smote each other not alone with hands,  
But with the head and with the breast and feet,  
Tearing each other piecemeal with their teeth.

Said the good Master:"Son, thou now beholdest  
The souls of those whom anger overcame;  
And likewise I would nave thee know for certain

Beneath the water people are who sigh  
And make this water bubble at the surface,  
As the eye tells thee wheresoe'er it turns.

Fixed in the mire they say,'We sullen were  
In the sweet air, which by the sun is gladdened,  
Bearing within ourselves the sluggish reek;

Now we are sullen in this sable mire.'  
This hymn do they keep gurgling in their throats,  
For with unbroken words they cannot say it."

Thus we went circling round the filthy fen  
A great arc 'twixt the dry bank and the swamp,  
With eyes turned unto those who gorge the mire;

Unto the foot of a tower we came at last.

CANTO 8

I SAY, continuing, that long before  
We to the foot of that high tower had come,  
Our eyes went upward to the summit of it,

By reason of two flamelets we saw placed there,  
And from afar another answer them,  
So far, that hardly could the eye attain it.

And, to the sea of all discernment turned,  
I said: " What sayeth this, and what respondeth  
That other fire ? and who are they that made it?"

And he to me:"Across the turbid waves  
What is expected thou canst now discern,  
If reek of the morass conceal it not."

Cord never shot an arrow from itself  
That sped away athwart the air so swift,  
As I beheld a very little boat

Come o'er the water tow'rds us at that moment,  
Under the guidance of a single pilot,  
Who shouted,"Now art thou arrived, fell soul?"

"Phlegyas, Phlegyas, thou criest out in vain  
For this once," said my Lord; " thou shalt not have  
Longer than in the passing of the slough."

As he who listens to some great deceit  
That has been done to him, and then resents it,  
Such became Phlegyas, in his gathered wrath.

My Guide descended down into the boat,  
And then he made me enter after him,  
And only when I entered seemed it laden.

Soon as the Guide and I were in the boat,  
The antique prow goes on its way, dividing  
More of the water than 'tis wont with others.

While we were running through the dead canal,  
Uprose in front of me one full of mire,  
And said, " Who 'rt thou that comest ere the hour?"

And I to him:"Although I come, I stay not;  
But who art thou that hast become so squalid?"  
"Thou seest that I am one who weeps," he answered.

And I to him:"With weeping and with wailing,  
Thou spirit maledict, do thou remain;  
For thee I know, though thou art all defiled."

Then stretched he both his hands unto the boat;  
Whereat my wary Master thrust him back,  
Saying, " Away there with the other dogs!"

Thereafter with his arms he clasped my neck;  
He kissed my face, and said: " Disdainful soul,  
Blessed be she who bore thee in her bosom.

That was an arrogant person in the world;  
Goodness is none, that decks his memory;  
So likewise here his shade is furious.

How many are esteemed great kings up there,  
Who here shall be like unto swine in mire,  
Leaving behind them horrible dispraises!"

And I:"My Master, much should I be pleased,  
If I could see him soused into this broth,  
Before we issue forth out of the lake."

And he to me:"Ere unto thee the shore  
Reveal itself, thou shalt be satisfied;  
Such a desire 'tis meet thou shouldst enjoy."

A little after that, I saw such havoc  
Made of him by the people of the mire,  
That still I praise and thank my God for it.

They all were shouting,"At Philippo Argenti!"  
And that exasperate spirit Florentine  
Turned round upon himself with his own teeth

We left him there, and more of him I tell not;  
But on mine ears there smote a lamentation,  
Whence forward I intent unbar mine eyes.

And the good Master said:"Even now, my Son,  
The city draweth near whose name is Dis,  
With the grave citizens, with the great throng."

And I:"Its mosques already, Master, clearly  
Within there in the valley I discern  
Vermilion, as if issuing from the fire

They were."And he to me:"The fire eternal  
That kindles them within makes them look red,  
As thou beholdest in this nether Hell."

Then we arrived within the moats profound,  
That circumvallate that disconsolate city;  
The walls appeared to me to be of iron.

Not without making first a circuit wide,  
We came unto a place where loud the pilot  
Cried out to us, " Debark, here is the entrance."

More than a thousand at the gates I saw  
Out of the Heavens rained down, who angrily  
Were saying, " Who is this that without death

Goes through the kingdom of the people dead?"  
And my sagacious Master made a sign  
Of wishing secretly to speak with them.

A little then they quelled their great disdain,  
And said:"Come thou alone, and he begone  
Who has so boldly entered these dominions.

Let him return alone by his mad road;  
Try, if he can; for thou shalt here remain,  
Who hast escorted him through such dark regions."

Think, Reader, if I was discomforted  
At utterance of the accursed words;  
For never to return here I believed.

"O my dear Guide, who more than seven times  
Hast rendered me security, and drawn me  
From imminent peril that before me stood,

Do not desert me,"said I,"thus undone;  
And if the going farther be denied us,  
Let us retrace our steps together swiftly."

And that Lord, who had led me thitherward,  
Said unto me: " Fear not; because our passage  
None can take from us, it by Such is given.

But here await me, and thy weary spirit  
Comfort and nourish with a better hope;  
For in this nether world I will not leave thee."

So onward goes and there abandons me  
My Father sweet, and I remain in doubt,  
For No and Yes within my head contend.

I could not hear what he proposed to them;  
But with them there he did not linger long,  
Ere each within in rivalry ran back.

They closed the portals, those our adversaries,  
On my Lord's breast, who had remained without  
And turned to me with footsteps far between.

His eyes cast down, his forehead shorn had he  
Of all its boldness, and he said, with sighs,  
"Who has denied to me the dolesome houses?"

And unto me:"Thou, because I am angry,  
Fear not, for I will conquer in the trial,  
Whatever for defence within be planned.

This arrogance of theirs is nothing new;  
For once they used it at less secret gate,  
Which finds itself without a fastening still.

O'er it didst thou behold the dead inscription;  
And now this side of it descends the steep,  
Passing across the circles without escort,

One by whose means the city shall be opened."

CANTO 9

THAT hue which cowardice brought out on me,  
Beholding my Conductor backward turn,  
Sooner repressed within him his new colour.

He stopped attentive, like a man who listens,  
Because the eye could not conduct him far  
Through the black air, and through the heavy fog.

"Still it behoveth us to win the fight,"  
Began he; " Else . . . Such offered us herself . . .  
O how I long that some one here arrive ! "

Well I perceived, as soon as the beginning  
He covered up with what came afterward,  
That they were words quite different from the first;

But none the less his saying gave me fear,  
Because I carried out the broken phrase,  
Perhaps to a worse meaning than he had.

"Into this bottom of the doleful conch  
Doth any e'er descend from the first grade,  
Which for its pain has only hope cut off?"

This question put I; and he answered me:  
"Seldom it comes to pass that one of us  
Maketh the journey upon which I go.

True is it, once before I here below  
Was conjured by that pitiless Erictho,  
Who summoned back the shades unto their bodies.

Naked of me short while the flesh had been,  
Before within that wall she made me enter,  
To bring a spirit from the circle of Judas;

That is the lowest region and the darkest,  
And farthest from the heaven which circles all.  
Well know I the way; therefore be reassured.

This fen, which a prodigious stench exhales,  
Encompasses about the city dolent,  
Where now we cannot enter without anger."

And more he said, but not in mind I have it;  
Because mine eye had altogether drawn me  
Tow'rds the high tower with the red-flaming summit,

Where in a moment saw I swift uprisen  
The three infernal Furies stained with blood,  
Who had the limbs of women and their mien,

And with the greenest hydras were begirt;  
Small serpents and cerastes were their tresses,  
Wherewith their horrid temples were entwined.

And he who well the handmaids of the Queen  
Of everlasting lamentation knew,  
Said unto me: " Behold the fierce Erinnys.

This is Megaera, on the left-hand side;  
She who is weeping on the right, Alecto;  
Tisiphone is between; " and then was silent.

Each one her breast was rending with her nails;  
They beat them with their palms, and cried so loud,  
That I for dread pressed close unto the Poet.

"Medusa come, so we to stone will change him!"  
All shouted looking down; "in evil hour  
Avenged we not on Theseus his assault!"

"Turn thyself round, and keep thine eyes close shut,  
For if the Gorgon appear, and thou shouldst see it,  
No more returning upward would there be."

Thus said the Master; and he turned me round  
Himself, and trusted not unto my hands  
So far as not to blind me with his own.

O ye who have undistempered intellects,  
Observe the doctrine that conceals itself  
Beneath the veil of the mysterious verses!

And now there came across the turbid waves  
The clangour of a sound with terror fraught,  
Because of which both of the margins trembled;

Not otherwise it was than of a wind  
Impetuous on account of adverse heats,  
That smites the forest, and, without restraint,

The branches rends, beats down, and bears away;  
Right onward, laden with dust, it goes superb,  
And puts to flight the wild beasts and the shepherds.

Mine eyes he loosed, and said:"Direct the nerve  
Of vision now along that ancient foam,  
There yonder where that smoke is most intense."

Even as the frogs before the hostile serpent  
Across the water scatter all abroad,  
Until each one is huddled in the earth.

More than a thousand ruined souls I saw,  
Thus fleeing from before one who on foot  
Was passing o'er the Styx with soles unwet

From off his face he fanned that unctuous air,  
Waving his left hand oft in front of him,  
And only with that anguish seemed he weary.

Well I perceived one sent from Heaven was he,  
And to the Master turned; and he made sign  
That I should quiet stand, and bow before him.

Ah I how disdainful he appeared to me!  
He reached the gate, and with a little rod  
He opened it, for there was no resistance.

" O banished out of Heaven, people despised!"  
Thus he began upon the horrid threshold;  
"Whence is this arrogance within you couched?

Wherefore recalcitrate against that will,  
From which the end can never be cut off,  
And which has many times increased your pain?

What helpeth it to butt against the fates?  
Your Cerberus, if you remember well,  
For that still bears his chin and gullet peeled."

Then he returned along the miry road,  
And spake no word to us, but had the look  
Of one whom other care constrains and goads

Than that of him who in his presence is;  
And we our feet directed tow'rds the city,  
After those holy words all confident.

Within we entered without any contest;  
And I, who inclination had to see  
What the condition such a fortress holds,

Soon as I was within, cast round mine eye,  
And see on every hand an ample plain,  
Full of distress and torment terrible.

Even as at Arles, where stagnant grows the Rhone,  
Even as at Pola near to the Quarnaro,  
That shuts in Italy and bathes its borders,

The sepulchres make all the place uneven;  
So likewise did they there on every side,  
Saving that there the manner was more bitter;

For flames between the sepulchres were scattered,  
By which they so intensely heated were,  
That iron more so asks not any art.

All of their coverings uplifted were,  
And from them issued forth such dire laments,  
Sooth seemed they of the wretched and tormented.

And I:"My Master, what are all those people  
Who, having sepulture within those tombs,  
Make themselves audible by doleful sighs?"

And he to me:"Here are the Heresiarchs,  
With their disciples of all sects, and much  
More than thou thinkest laden are the tombs.

Here like together with its like is buried;  
And more and less the monuments are heated."  
And when he to the right had turned, we passed

Between the torments and high parapets.

CANTO 10

Now onward goes, along a narrow path  
Between the torments and the city wall,  
My Master, and I follow at his back.

"O power supreme, that through these impious circles  
Turnest me,"I began, "as pleases thee,  
Speak to me, and my longings satisfy;

The people who are Iying in these tombs,  
Might they be seen? already are uplifted  
The covers all, and no one keepeth guard."

And he to me:"They all will be closed up  
When from Jehoshaphat they shall return  
Here with the bodies they have left above.

Their cemetery have upon this side  
With Epicurus all his followers,  
Who with the body mortal make the soul;

But in the question thou dost put to me,  
Within here shalt thou soon be satisfied,  
And likewise in the wish thou keepest silent."

And I:"Good Leader,I but keep concealed  
From thee my heart, that I may speak the less,  
Nor only now hast thou thereto disposed me."

"O Tuscan, thou who through the city of fire  
Goest alive, thus speaking modestly,  
Be pleased to stay thy footsteps in this place.

Thy mode of speaking makes thee manifest  
A native of that noble fatherland,  
To which perhaps I too molestful was."

Upon a sudden issued forth this sound  
From out one of the tombs; wherefore I pressed,  
Fearing, a little nearer to my Leader.

And unto me he said:"Turn thee; what dost thou?  
Behold there Farinata who has risen;  
From the waist upwards wholly shalt thou see him."

I had already fixed mine eyes on his,  
And he uprose erect with breast and front  
E'en as if Hell he had in great despite.

And with courageous hands and prompt my Leader  
Thrust me between the sepulchres towards him,  
Exclaiming, " Let thy words explicit be."

As soon as I was at the foot of his tomb  
Somewhat he eyed me, and, as if disdainful,  
Then asked of me, "Who were thine ancestors?"

I, who desirous of obeying was,  
Concealed it not, but all revealed to him;  
Whereat he raised his brows a little upward.

Then said he:"Fiercely adverse have they been  
To me, and to my fathers, and my party;  
So that two several times I scattered them."

"If they were banished, they returned on all sides,"  
I answered him, " the first time and the second;  
But yours have not acquired that art aright."

Then there uprose upon the sight, uncovered  
Down to the chin, a shadow at his side;  
I think that he had risen on his knees.

Round me he gazed, as if solicitude  
He had to see if some one else were with me,  
But after his suspicion was all spent,

Weeping, he said to me:"If through this blind  
Prison thou goest by loftiness of genius,  
Where is my son? and why is he not with thee?"

And I to him:"I come not of myself;  
He who is waiting yonder leads me here,  
Whom in disdain perhaps your Guido had."

His language and the mode of punishment  
Already unto me had read his name;  
On that account my answer was so full.

Up starting suddenly, he cried out:"How  
Saidst thou,-he had ? Is he not still alive?  
Does not the sweet light strike upon his eyes ?"

When he became aware of some delay,  
Which I before my answer made, supine  
He fell again, and forth appeared no more.

But the other, magnanimous, at whose desire  
I had remained, did not his aspect change,  
Neither his neck he moved, nor bent his side.

"And if,"continuing his first discourse,  
"They have that art,"he said, "not learned aright,  
That more tormenteth me, than doth this bed.

But fifty times shall not rekindled be  
The countenance of the Lady who reigns here  
Ere thou shalt know how heavy is that art;

And as thou wouldst to the sweet world return,  
Say why that people is so pitiless  
Against my race in each one of its laws?"

Whence I to him:"The slaughter and great carnage  
Which have with crimson stained the Arbia, cause  
Such orisons in our temple to be made."

After his head he with a sigh had shaken,  
"There 1 was not alone," he said,"nor surely  
Without a cause had with the others moved.

But there I was alone, where every one  
Consented to the laying waste of Florence,  
He who defended her with open face."

"Ah! so hereafter may your seed repose,"  
I him entreated, " solve for me that knot,  
Which has entangled my conceptions here.

It seems that you can see, if I hear rightly,  
Beforehand whatsoe'er time brings with it,  
And in the present have another mode."

"We see, like those who have imperfect sight,  
The things," he said, " that distant are from us;  
So much still shines on us the Sovereign Ruler.

When they draw near, or are, is wholly vain  
Our intellect, and if none brings it to us,  
Not anything know we of your human state.

Hence thou canst understand, that wholly dead  
Will be our knowledge from the moment when  
The portal of the future shall be closed."

Then I, as if compunctious for my fault,  
Said: " Now, then, you will tell that fallen one,  
That still his son is with the living joined.

And if just now, in answering, I was dumb,  
Tell him I did it because I was thinking  
Already of the error you have solved me."

And now my Master was recalling me,  
Wherefore more eagerly I prayed the spirit  
That he would tell me who was with him there.

He said:"With more than a thousand here I lie;  
Within here is the second Frederick,  
And the Cardinal, and of the rest I speak not."

Thereon he hid himself; and I towards  
The ancient poet turned my steps, reflecting  
Upon that saying, which seemed hostile to me.

He moved along; and afterward thus going,  
He said to me, " Why art thou so bewildered?"  
And I in his inquiry satisfied him.

"When thou shalt be before the radiance sweet  
Of her whose beauteous eyes all things behold,  
From her thou'lt know the journey of thy life."

Unto the left hand then he turned his feet;  
We left the wall, and went towards the middle,  
Along a path that strikes into a valley,

CANTO 11

UPON the margin of a lofty bank  
Which great rocks broken in a circle made,  
We came upon a still more cruel throng;

And there, by reason of the horrible  
Excess of stench the deep abyss throws out,  
We drew ourselves aside behind the cover

Of a great tomb, whereon I saw a writing,  
Which said: " Pope Anastasius I hold,  
Whom out of the right way Photinus drew."

"Slow it behoveth our descent to be,  
So that the sense be first a little used  
To the sad blast, and then we shall not heed it."

The Master thus; and unto him I said,  
"Some compensation find, that the time pass not  
Idly;"and he:"Thou seest I think of that.

My son, upon the inside of these rocks,"  
Began he then to say, " are three small circles,  
From grade to grade, like those which thou art leaving

They all are full of spirits maledict;  
But that hereafter sight alone suffice thee,  
Hear how and wherefore they are in constraint.

Of every malice that wins hate in Heaven,  
Injury is the end; and all such end  
Either by force or fraud afflicteth others.

But because fraud is man's peculiar vice,  
More it displeases God; and so stand lowest  
The fraudulent, and greater dole assails them.

All the first circle of the Violent is;  
But since force may be used against three persons,  
In three rounds 'tis divided and constructed.

To God, to ourselves, and to our neighbour can we  
Use force; I say on them and on their things,  
As thou shalt hear with reason manifest.

A death by violence, and painful wounds,  
Are to our neighbour given; and in his substance  
Ruin, and arson, and injurious levies;

Whence homicides, and he who smites unjustly,  
Marauders, and freebooters, the first round  
Tormenteth all m companies diverse.

Man may lay violent hands upon himself  
And his own goods; and therefore in the second  
Round must perforce without avail repent

Whoever of your world deprives himself,  
Who games, and dissipates his property,  
And weepeth there, where he should jocund be.

Violence can be done the Deity,  
In heart denying and blaspheming Him,  
And by disdaining Nature and her bounty.

And for this reason doth the smallest round  
Seal with its signet Sodom and Cahors,  
And who, disdaining God, speaks from the heart.

Fraud, wherewithal is every conscience stung,  
A man may practise upon him who trusts,  
And him who doth no confidence imburse.

This latter mode, it would appear, dissevers  
Only the bond of love which Nature makes;  
Wherefore within the second circle nestle

Hypocrisy, flattery, and who deals in magic,  
Falsification, theft, and simony,  
Panders, and barrators, and the like-filth.

By the other mode, forgotten is that love  
Which Nature makes, and what is after added,  
From which there is a special faith engendered.

Hence in the smallest circle, where the point is  
Of the Universe, upon which Dis is seated,  
Whoe'er betrays for ever is consumed."

And I:"My Master, clear enough proceeds  
Thy reasoning, and full well distinguishes  
This cavern and the people who possess it.

But tell me, those within the fat lagoon,  
Whom the wind drives, and whom the rain doth beat,  
And who encounter with such bitter tongues,

And unto me he said:"Why wanders so  
Thine intellect from that which it is wont?  
Or, sooth, thy mind where is it elsewhere looking?

Hast thou no recollection of those words  
With which thine Ethics thoroughly discusses  
The dispositions three, that Heaven abides not,-

Incontinence, and Malice, and insane  
Bestiality ? and how Incontinence  
Less God offendeth, and less blame attracts?

If thou regardest this conclusion well,  
And to thy mind recallest who they are  
That up outside are undergoing penance,

Clearly wilt thou perceive why from these felons  
They separated are, and why less wroth  
Justice divine doth smite them with its hammer."

"O Sun, that healest all distempered vision,  
Thou dost content me so, when thou resolvest,  
That doubting pleases me no less than knowing!

Once more a little backward turn thee," said I,  
"There where thou sayest that usury offends  
Goodness divine, and disengage the knot."

"Philosophy," he said, "to him who heeds it,  
Noteth, not only in one place alone,  
After what manner Nature takes her course

From Intellect Divine, and from its art;  
And if thy Physics carefully thou notest,  
After not many pages shalt thou find,

From these two, if thou bringest to thy mind  
Genesis at the beginning, it behoves  
Mankind to gain their life and to advance;

And since the usurer takes another way,  
Nature herself and in her follower  
Disdains he, for elsewhere he puts his hope.

But follow, now, as I would fain go on,  
For quivering are the Fishes on the horizon,  
And the Wain wholly over Caurus lies,

And far beyond there we descend the crag."

CANTO 12

The place where to descend the bank we came  
Was alpine, and from what was  
there, moreover, Of such a kind that every eye would shun it.  
Such as that ruin is which in the flank  
Smote, on this side of Trent, the Adige,  
Either by earthquake or by failing stay,

For from the mountain's top, from which it moved,  
Unto the plain the cliff is shattered so,  
Some path 'twould give to him who was above;

Even such was the descent of that ravine,  
And on the border of the broken chasm  
The infamy of Crete was stretched along,

Who was conceived in the fictitious cow;  
And when he us beheld, he bit himself,  
Even as one whom anger racks within.

My Sage towards him shouted-:"Peradventure  
Thou think'st that here may be the Duke of Athens,  
Who in the world above brought death to thee?

Get thee gone, beast, for this one cometh not  
Instructed by thy sister, but he comes  
In order to behold your punishments."

As is that bull who breaks loose at the moment  
In which he has received the mortal blow,  
Who cannot walk, but staggers here and there,

Thus down we took our way o'er that discharge  
Of stones, which oftentimes did move themselves  
Beneath my feet, from the unwonted burden.

Thoughtful I went and he said:"Thou art thinking  
Perhaps upon this ruin, which is guarded  
By that brute anger which just now I quenched.

Now will I have thee know, the other time  
I here descended to the nether Hell,  
This precipice had not yet fallen down.

But truly, if I well discern, a little  
Before His coming who the mighty spoil  
Bore off from Dis, in the supernal circle,

Upon all sides the deep and loathsome valley  
Trembled so, that I thought the Universe  
Was thrilled with love, by which there are who think

The world ofttimes converted into chaos;  
And at that moment this primeval crag  
Both here and elsewhere made such overthrow.

But fix thine eyes below; for draweth near  
The river of blood, within which boiling is  
Whoe'er by violence doth injure others."

O blind cupidity, O wrath insane,  
That spurs us onward so in our short life,  
And in the eternal then so badly steeps us!

I saw an ample moat bent like a bow,  
As one which a]l the plain encompasses,  
Conformable to what my Guide had said.

And between this and the embankment's foot  
Centaurs in file were running, armed with arrows,  
As in the world they used the chase to follow.

Beholding us descend, each one stood still,  
And from the squadron three detached themselves,  
With bows and arrows in advance selected;

And from afar one cried:"Unto what torment  
Come ye, who down the hillside are descending?  
Tell us from there; if not, I draw the bow."

My Master said:"Our answer will we make  
To Chiron, near you there; in evil hour,  
That will of thine was evermore so hasty."

Then touched he me, and said:"This one is Nessus,  
Who perished for the lovely Dejanira,  
And for himself, himself did vengeance take.

And he in the midst, who at his breast is gazing,  
Is the great Chiron, who brought up Achilles;  
That other Pholus is, who was so wrathful.

Thousands and thousands go about the moat  
Shooting with shafts whatever soul emerges  
Out of the blood, more than his crime allots."

Near we approached unto those monsters fleet;  
Chiron an arrow took, and with the notch  
Backward upon his jaws he put his beard.

After he had uncovered his great mouth,  
He said to his companions:"Are you ware  
That he behind moveth whate'er he touches?

Thus are not wont to do the feet of dead men."  
And my good Guide, who now was at his breast,  
Where the two natures are together joined,

Replied:"Indeed he lives, and thus alone  
Me it behoves to show him the dark valley;  
Necessity, and not delight, impels us.

Some one withdrew from singing Halleluja,  
Who unto me committed this new office;  
No thief is he, nor I a thievish spirit.

But by that virtue through which I am moving  
My steps along this savage thoroughfare,  
Give us some one of thine, to be with us,

And who may show us where to pass the ford,  
And who may carry this one on his back;  
For 'tis no spirit that can walk the air."

Upon his right breast Chiron wheeled about,  
And said to Nessus: " Turn and do thou guide them,  
And warn aside, if other band may meet you."

We with our faithful escort onward moved  
Along the brink of the vermilion boiling,  
Wherein the boiled were uttering loud laments.

People I saw within up to the eyebrows,  
And the great Centaur said:"Tyrants are these,  
Who dealt in bloodshed and in pillaging.

Here they lament their pitiless mischiefs; here  
Is Alexander, and fierce Dionysius  
Who upon Sicily brought dolorous years.

That forehead there which has the hair so black  
Is Azzolin; and the other who is blond,  
Obizzo is of Esti, who, in truth,

Up in the world was by his stepson slain."  
Then turned I to the Poet; and he said,  
"Now he be first to thee, and second I."

A little farther on the Centaur stopped  
Above a folk, who far down as the throat  
Seemed from that boiling stream to issue forth.

A shade' he showed us on one side alone,  
Saying: " He cleft asunder in God's bosom  
The heart that still upon the Thames is honoured."

Then people saw I, who from out the river  
Lifted their heads and also all the chest;  
And many among these I recognised.

Thus ever more and more grew shallower  
That blood, so that the feet alone it covered;  
And there across the moat our passage was.

"Even as thou here upon this side beholdest  
The boiling stream, that aye diminishes,"  
The Centaur said, "I wish thee to believe

That on this other more and more declines  
Its bed, until it reunites itself  
Where it behoveth tyranny to groan.

Justice divine, upon this side, is goading  
That Attila, who was a scourge on earth,  
And Pyrrhus, and Sextus; and for ever milks

The tears which with the boiling it unseals  
In Rinier da Corneto and Rinier Pazzo,  
Who made upon the highways so much war."

Then back he turned, and passed again the ford.

CANTO 13

NOT yet had Nessus eached the other side,  
When we had put ourselves within a wood,  
That was not marked by any path whatever.

Not foliage green, but of a dusky colour,  
Not branches smooth, but gnarled and intertangled,  
Not apple-trees were there, but thorns with poison.

Such tangled thickets have not, nor so dense,  
Those savage wild beasts, that in hatred hold  
'Twixt Cecina and Corneto the tilled places.

There do the hideous Harpies make their nests,  
Who chased the Trojans from the Strophades,  
With sad announcement of impending doom;

Broad wings have they, and necks and faces human,  
And feet with claws, and their great bellies fledged;  
They make laments upon the wondrous trees.

And the good Master:"Ere thou enter farther,  
Know that thou art within the second round,"  
Thus he began to say, " and shalt be, till

Thou comest out upon the horrible sand;  
Therefore look well around, and thou shalt see  
Things that will credence give unto my speech."

I heard on all sides lamentations uttered,  
And person none beheld I who might make them,  
Whence, utterly bewildered, I stood still.

I think he thought that I perhaps might think  
So many voices issued through those trunks  
From people who concealed themselves from us;

Therefore the Master said:"If thou break off  
Some little spray from any of these trees,  
The thoughts thou hast will wholly be made vain."

Then stretched I forth my hand a little forward,  
And plucked a branchlet off from a great thorn,  
And the trunk cried, " Why dost thou mangle me?"

After it had become embrowned with blood,  
It recommenced its cry: " Why dost thou rend me  
Hast thou no spirit of pity whatsoever ?

Men once we were, and now are changed to trees;  
Indeed, thy hand should be more pitiful,  
Even if the souls of serpents we had been."

As out of a green brand, that is on fire  
At one of the ends, and from the other drips  
And hisses with the wind that is escaping;

So from that splinter issued forth together  
Both words and blood; whereat I let the tip  
Fall, and stood like a man who is afraid.

':Had he been able sooner to believe,"  
My Sage made answer, " O thou wounded soul,  
What only in my verses he has seen,

Not upon thee had he stretched forth his hand;  
Whereas the thing incredible has caused me  
To put him to an act which grieveth me.

But tell him who thou wast, so that by way  
Of some amends thy fame he may refresh  
Up in the world, to which he can return."

And the trunk said:"So thy sweet words allure me,  
I cannot silent be; and you be vexed not,  
That I a little to discourse am tempted.

I am the one who both keys had in keeping  
Of Frederick's heart, and turned them to and fro  
So softly in unlocking and in locking,

That from his secrets most men I withheld;  
Fidelity I bore the glorious office  
So great, I lost thereby my sleep and pulses.

The courtesan who never from the dwelling  
Of Caesar turned aside her strumpet eyes,  
Death universal and the vice of courts,

Inflamed against me all the other minds,  
And they, inflamed, did so inflame Augustus,  
That my glad honours turned to dismal mournings.

My spirit, in disdainful exultation,  
Thinking by dying to escape disdain,  
Made me unjust against myself, the just.

I, by the roots unwonted of this wood,  
Do swear to you that never broke I faith  
Unto my lord, who was so worthy of honour;

And to the world if one of you return,  
Let him my memory comfort, which is lying  
Still prostrate from the blow that envy dealt it."

Waited awhile, and then: " Since he is silent,"  
The Poet said to me, " lose not the time,  
But speak, and question him, if more may please thee."

Whence I to him:"Do thou again inquire  
Concerning what thou thinks't will satisfy me;  
For I cannot, such pity is in my heart."

Therefore he recommenced:"So may the man  
Do for thee freely what thy speech implores,  
Spirit incarcerate, again be pleased

To tell us in what way the soul is bound  
Within these knots; and tell us, if thou canst  
If any from such members e'er is freed."

Then blew the trunk amain, and afterward  
The wind was into such a voice converted:  
"With brevity shall be replied to you.

When the exasperated soul abandons  
The body whence it rent itself away,  
Minos consigns it to the seventh abyss.

It falls into the forest, and no part  
Is chosen for it; but where Fortune hurls it,  
There like a grain of spelt it germinates.

It springs a sapling, and a forest tree;  
The Harpies, feeding then upon its leaves,  
Do pain create, and for the pain an outlet.

Like others for our spoils shall we return;  
But not that any one may them revest,  
For 'tis not just to have what one casts off.

Here we shall drag them, and along the dismal  
Forest our bodies shall suspended be,  
Each to the thorn of his molested shade."

We were attentive still unto the trunk,  
Thinking that more it yet might wish to tell us,  
When by a tumult we were overtaken,

In the same way as he is who perceives  
The boar and chase approaching to his stand,  
Who hears the crashing of the beasts and branches;

And two behold! upon our left-hand side,  
Naked and scratched, fleeing so furiously,  
That of the forest, every fan they broke.

He who was in advance:"Now help, Death, help !"  
And the other one, who seemed to lag too much,  
Was shouting:"Lano, were not so alert

Those legs of thine at joustings of the Toppo!"  
And then, perchance because his breath was failing,  
He grouped himself together with a bush.

Behind them was the forest full of black  
She-mastiffs, ravenous, and swift of foot  
As greyhounds, who are issuing from the chain.

On him who had crouched down they set their teeth,  
And him they lacerated piece by piece,  
Thereafter bore away those aching members.

Thereat my Escort took me by the hand,  
And led me to the bush, that all in vain  
as weeping from its bloody lacerations.

"O Jacopo," it said, "of Sant' Andrea,  
What helped it thee of me to make a screen?  
What blame have I in thy nefarious life ?"

When near him had the Master stayed his steps,  
He said:"Who wast thou, that through wounds so many  
Art blowing out with blood thy dolorous speech?"

And he to us:"O souls, that hither come  
To look upon the shameful massacre  
That has so rent away from me my leaves,

Gather them up beneath the dismal bush;  
I of that city was which to the Baptist  
Changed its first patron, wherefore he for this

Forever with his art will make it sad.  
And were it not that on the pass of Arno  
Some glimpses of him are remaining still,

Those citizens, who afterwards rebuilt it  
Upon the ashes left by Attila,  
In vain had caused their labour to be done.

Of my own house I made myself a gibbet."

CANTO 14

BECAUSE he charity of my native place  
Constrained me, gathered I the scattered leaves,  
And gave them back to him, who now was hoarse.

Then came we to the confine, where disparted  
The second round is from the third, and where  
A horrible form of Justice is beheld.

Clearly to manifest these novel things,  
I say that we arrived upon a plain,  
Which from its bed rejecteth every plant;

The dolorous forest is a garland to it  
All round about, as the sad moat to that;  
There close upon the edge we stayed our feet.

The soil was of an arid and thick sand,  
Not of another fashion made than that  
Which by the feet of Cato once was pressed.

Vengeance of God, O how much oughtest thou  
By each one to be dreaded, who doth read  
That which was manifest unto mine eyes!

Of naked souls beheld I many herds,  
Who all were weeping very miserably,  
And over them seemed set a law diverse.

Supine upon the ground some folk were lying;  
And some were sitting all drawn up together,  
And others went about continually.

Those who were going round were far the more,  
And those were less who lay down to their torment,  
But had their tongues more loosed to lamentation.

O'er all the sand-waste, with a gradual fall,  
Were raining down dilated flakes of fire,  
As of the snow on Alp without a wind.

As Alexander, in those torrid parts  
Of India, beheld upon his host  
Flames fall unbroken till they reached the ground,

Whence he provided with his phalanxes  
To trample down the soil, because the vapour  
Better extinguished was while it was single;

Thus was descending the eternal heat,  
Whereby the sand was set on fire, like tinder  
Beneath the steel, for doubling of the dole.

Without repose forever was the dance  
Of miserable hands, now there, now here,  
Shaking away from off them the fresh gleeds.

" Master," began I, "thou who overcomest  
All things except the demons dire, that issued  
Against us at the entrance of the gate,

Who is that mighty one who seems to heed not  
The fire, and lieth lowering and disdainful,  
So that the rain seems not to ripen him?"

And he himself, who had become aware  
That I was questioning my Guide about him,  
Cried: " Such as I was living, am I, dead

If Jove should weary out his smith, from whom  
He seized in anger the sharp thunderbolt,  
Wherewith upon the last day I was smitten,

And if he wearied out by turns the others  
In Mongibello at the swarthy forge,  
Vociferating, 'Help, good Vulcan, help!'

Even as he did there at the fight of Phlegra,  
And shot his bolts at me with all his might,  
He would not have thereby a joyous vengeance."

Then did my Leader speak with such great force,  
That I had never heard him speak so loud:  
" O Capaneus, in that is not extinguished

Thine arrogance, thou punished art the more;  
Not any torment, saving thine own rage,  
Would be unto thy fury pain complete."

Then he turned round to me with better lip,  
Saying: " One of the Seven Kings was he  
Who Thebes besieged, and held, and seems to hold

God in disdain, and little seems to prize him;  
But, as I said to him, his own despites  
Are for his breast the fittest ornaments.

Now follow me, and mind thou do not place  
As yet thy feet upon the burning sand,  
But always keep them close unto the wood."

Speaking no word, we came to where there gushes  
Forth from the wood a little rivulet,  
Whose redness makes my hair still stand on end.

As from the Bulicame springs the brooklet,  
The sinful women later share among them,  
So downward through the sand it went its way.

The bottom of it, and both sloping banks,  
Were made of stone, and the margins at the side;  
Whence I perceived that there the passage was.

"In all the rest which I have shown to thee  
Since we have entered in within the gate  
Whose threshold unto no one is denied,

Nothing has been discovered by thine eyes  
So notable as is the present river,  
Which all the little 'dames above it quenches."

These words were of my Leader; whence I prayed him  
That he would give me largess of the food,  
For which he had given me largess of desire.

" In the mid-sea there sits a wasted land,"  
Said he thereafterward, " whose name is Crete,  
Under whose king the world of old was chaste.

There is a mountain there, that once was glad  
With waters and with leaves, which was called Ida;  
Now 'tis deserted, as a thing worn out.

Rhea once chose it for the faithful cradle  
Of her own son; and to conceal him better,  
Whene'er he cried, she there had clamours made.

A grand old man stands in the mount erect,  
Who holds his shoulders turned tow'rds Damietta,  
And looks at Rome as if it were his mirror.

His head is fashioned of refined gold,  
And of pure silver are the arms and breast;  
Then he is brass as far down as the fork.

From that point downward all is chosen iron,  
Save that the right foot is of kiln-baked clay,  
And more he stands on that than on the other.

Each part, except the gold, is by a fissure  
Asunder cleft, that dripping is with tears,  
Which gathered together perforate that cavern

From rock to rock they fall into this valley;  
Acheron, Styx, and Phlegethon they form;  
Then downward go along this narrow sluice

Unto that point where is no more descending.  
They form Cocytus; what that pool may be  
Thou shalt behold, so here 'tis not narrated."

And I to him:"If so the present runnel  
Doth take its rise in this way from our world,  
Why only on this verge appears it to us?"

And he to me:"Thou knowest the place is round  
And notwithstanding thou hast journeyed far,  
Still to the left descending to the bottom,

Thou hast not yet through all the circle turned.  
Therefore if something new appear to us,  
It should not bring amazement to thy face."

And I again:"Master, where shall be found  
Lethe and Phlegethon, for of one thou'rt silent,  
And sayest the other of this rain is made?"

"In all thy questions truly thou dost please me,"  
Replied he; " but the boiling of the red  
Water might well solve one of them thou makest.

Thou shalt see Lethe, but outside this moat,  
There where the souls repair to lave themselves,  
When sin repented of has been removed."

Then said he:"It is time now to abandon  
The wood; take heed that thou come after me;  
A way the margins make that are not burning,

And over them all vapours are extinguished."

CANTO 15

Now bears us onward one of the hard margins,  
And so the brooklet's mist o'ershadows it,  
From fire it saves the water and the dikes.

Even as the Flemings, 'twixt Cadsand and Bruges,  
Fearing the flood that tow'rds them hurls itself,  
Their bulwarks build to put the sea to flight;

And as the Paduans along the Brenta,  
To guard their villas and their villages,  
Or ever Chiarentana feel the heat;

In such similitude had those been made,  
Albeit not so lofty nor so thick,  
Whoever he might be, the master made them.

Now were we from the forest so remote,  
I could not have discovered where it was,  
Even if backward I had turned myself,

Then we a company of souls encountered,  
Who came beside the dike, and every one  
Gazed at us, as at evening we are wont

To eye each other under a new moon,  
And so towards us sharpened they their brows  
As an old tailor at the needle's eye.

Thus scrutinised by such a family,  
By some one I was recognised, who seized  
My garment's hem, and cried out,"What a marvel!"

And I, when he stretched forth his arm-to me,  
On his baked aspect fastened so mine eyes,  
That the scorched countenance prevented not

His recognition by my intellect;  
And bowing down my face unto his own,  
I made reply,"Are you here, Ser Brunetto?"

And he:"May't not displease thee, O my son,  
If a brief space with thee Brunetto Latini  
Backward return and let the trail go on."

I said to him: " With all my power I ask it;  
And if you wish me to sit down with you,  
I will, if he please, for I go with him."

"O son,"he said,"whoever of this herd  
A moment stops, lies then a hundred years,  
Nor fans himself when smiteth him the fire.

Therefore go on; I at thy skirts will come,  
And afterward will I rejoin my band,  
Which goes lamenting its eternal doom."

I did not dare to go down from the road  
Level to walk with him; but my head bowed  
I held as one who goeth reverently.

And he began:"What fortune or what fate  
Before the last day leadeth thee down here?  
And who is this that showeth thee the way?"

"Up there above us in the life serene,"  
I answered him,"I lost me in a valley,  
Or ever yet my age had been completed.

But yestermorn I turned my back upon it;  
This one appeared to me, returning thither,  
And homeward leadeth me along this road."

And he to me:"If thou thy star do follow,  
Thou canst not fail thee of a glorious port,  
If well I judged in the life beautiful.

And if I had not died so prematurely,  
Seeing Heaven thus benignant unto thee,  
I would have given thee comfort in the work.

But that ungrateful and malignant people,  
Which of old time from Fesole descended,  
And smacks still of the mountain and the granite,

Will make itself, for thy good deeds, thy foe;  
And it is right; for among crabbed sorbs  
It ill befits the sweet fig to bear fruit.

Old rumour in the world proclaims them blind;  
A People avaricious, envious, proud:,  
Take heed that of their customs thou do cleanse thee.

Thy fortune so much honour doth reserve thee,  
One party and the other shall be hungry  
For thee; but far from goat shall be the grass.

Their litter let the beasts of Fesole  
Make of themselves, nor let them touch the plant,  
If any still upon their dunghill rise,

In which may yet revive the consecrated  
Seed of those Romans, who remained there when  
The nest of such great malice it became."

"If my entreaty wholly were fulfilled,"  
Replied I to him, " not yet would you be  
In banishment from human nature placed;

For in my mind is fixed, and touches now  
My heart the dear and good paternal image  
Of you, when in the world from hour to hour

You taught me how a man becomes eternal;  
And how much I am grateful, while I live  
Behoves that in my language be discerned.

What you narrate of my career I write,  
And keep it to be glossed with other text  
By a Lady who can do it, if I reach her.

This much will I have manifest to you;  
Provided that my conscience do not chide me,  
For whatsoever Fortune I am ready.

Such handsel is not new unto mine ears;  
Therefore let Fortune turn her wheel around  
As it may please her, and the churl his mattock."

My Master thereupon on his right cheek  
Did backward turn himself, and looked at me;  
Then said:"He listeneth well who noteth it."

Nor speaking less on that account, I go  
With Ser Brunetto, and I ask who are  
His most known and most eminent companions.

And he to me:"To know of some is well;  
Of others it were laudable to be silent,  
For short would be the time for so much speech.

Know them in sum, that all of them were clerks,  
And men of letters great and of great fame,  
In the world tainted with the selfsame sin.

Priscian goes yonder with that wretched crowd,  
And Francis of Accorso; and thou hadst seen there  
If thou hadst had a hankering for such scurf,

That one, who by the Servant of the Servants  
From Arno was transferred to Bacchiglione,  
Where he has left his sin-excited nerves.

More would I say, but coming and discoursing  
Can be no longer; for that I behold  
New smoke uprising yonder from the sand.

A people comes with whom I may not be;  
Commended unto thee be my Tesoro,  
In which I still live, and no more I ask."

Then he turned round, and seemed to be of those  
Who at Verona run for the Green Mantle  
Across the plain; and seemed to be among them

The one who wins, and not the one who loses.

CANTO 16

Now was I where was heard the reverberation  
Of water falling into the next round,  
Like to that humming which the beehives make,

When shadows three together started forth,  
Running, from out a company that passed  
Beneath the rain of the sharp martyrdom.

Towards us came they, and each one cried out:  
"Stop, thou; for by thy garb to us thou seemest  
To be some one of our depraved city."

Ah me ! what wounds I saw upon their limbs,  
Recent and ancient by the flames burnt in!  
It pains me still but to remember it.

Unto their cries my teacher paused attentive;  
He turned his face towards me, and " Now wait,  
He said; " to these we should be courteous.

And if it were not for the fire that darts  
The nature of this region, I should say  
That haste were more becoming thee than them."

As soon as we stood still, they recommenced  
The old refrain, and when they overtook us,  
Formed of themselves a wheel, all three of them.

As champions stripped and oiled are wont to do,  
Watching for their advantage and their hold,  
Before they come to blows and thrusts between them,

Thus, wheeling round, did every one his visage  
Direct to me, so that in opposite wise  
His neck and feet continual journey made.

And,"If the misery of this soft place  
Bring in disdain ourselves and our entreaties,"  
Began one, "and our aspect black and blistered.

Let the renown of us thy mind incline  
To tell us who thou art, who thus securely  
Thy living feet dost move along through Hell.

He in whose footprints thou dost see me treading,  
Naked and skinless though he now may go,  
Was of a greater rank than thou dost think;

He was the grandson of the good Gualdrada;  
His name was Guidoguerra, and in life  
Much did he with his wisdom and his sword.

The other, who close by me treads the sand,  
Tegghiaio Aldobrandi is, whose fame  
Above there in the world should welcome be.

And I, who with them on the cross am placed,  
Jacopo Rusticucci was; and truly  
My savage wife, more than aught else, doth harm me."

Could I have been protected from the fire,  
Below I should have thrown myself among them,  
And think the Teacher would have suffered it;

But as I should have burned and baked myself,  
My terror overmastered my good will,  
Which made me greedy of embracing them.

Then I began:"Sorrow and not disdain  
Did your condition fix within me so,  
That tardily it wholly is stripped off,

As soon as this my Lord said unto me  
Words, on account of which I thought within me  
That people such as you are were approaching.

I of your city am; and evermore  
Your labours and your honourable names  
I with affection have retraced and heard.

I leave the gall, and go for the sweet fruits  
Promised to me by the veracious Leader;  
But to the centre first I needs must plunge."

"So may the soul for a long while conduct  
Those limbs of thine," did he make answer  
"And so may thy renown shine after thee,

Valour and courtesy, say if they dwell  
Within our city, as they used to do,  
Or if they wholly have gone out of it;

For Guglielmo Borsier, who is in torment  
With us of late, and goes there with his comrades,  
Doth greatly mortify us with his words."

"The new inhabitants and the sudden gains,  
Pride and extravagance have in thee engendered,  
Florence, so that thou weep'st thereat already!"

In this wise I exclaimed with face uplifted;  
And the three, taking that for my reply,  
Looked at each other, as one looks at truth

"If other times so little it doth cost thee,"  
Replied they all, " to satisfy another,  
Happy art thou, thus speaking at thy will !

Therefore, if thou escape from these dark places,  
And come to rebehold the beauteous stars,  
When it shall pleasure thee to say, 'I was,'

See that thou speak of us unto the people."  
Then they broke up the wheel, and in their flight  
It seemed as if their agile legs were wings.

Not an Amen could possibly be said  
So rapidly as they had disappeared;  
Wherefore the Master deemed best to depart.

I followed him, and little had we gone,  
Before the sound of water was so near us,  
That speaking we should hardly have been heard.

Even as that stream which holdeth its own course  
The first from Monte Veso tow'rds the East,  
Upon the left-hand slope of Apennine,

Which is above called Acquacheta, ere  
It down descendeth into its low bed,  
And at Forli is vacant of that name,

Reverberates there above San Benedetto  
From Alps, by falling at a single leap,  
Where for a thousand there were room enough;

Thus downward from a bank precipitate,  
We found resounding that dark-tinted water,  
So that it soon the ear would have offended.

I had a cord around about me girt,  
And therewithal I whilom had designed  
To take the panther with the painted skin.

After I this had all from me unloosed,  
As my Conductor had commanded me,  
I reached it to him, gathered up and coiled

Whereat he turned himself to the right side,  
And at a little distance from the verge,  
He cast it down into that deep abyss.

"It must needs be some novelty respond,"  
I said within myself, " to the new signal  
The Master with his eye is following so."

Ah me I how very cautious men should be  
With those who not alone behold the act,  
But with their wisdom look into the thoughts!

He said to me:"Soon there will upward come  
What I await; and what thy thought is dreaming  
Must soon reveal itself unto thy sight."

Aye to that truth which has the face of falsehood,  
A man should close his lips as far as may be,  
Because without his fault it causes shame;

But here I cannot; and, Reader, by the notes  
Of this my Comedy to thee I swear,  
So may they not be void of lasting favour,

Athwart that dense and darksome atmosphere  
I saw a figure swimming upward come,  
Marvellous unto every steadfast heart,

Even as he returns who goeth down  
Sometimes to clear an anchor, which has grappled  
Reef,or aught else that in the sea is hidden,

Who upward stretches, and draws in his feet.

CANTO 17

"BEHOLD the monster with the pointed tail,  
Who cleaves the hills, and breaketh walls and weapons,  
Behold him who infecteth all the world."

Thus unto me my Guide began to say,  
And beckoned him that he should come to shore,  
Near to the confine of the trodden marble;

And that uncleanly image of deceit  
Came up and thrust ashore its head and bust,  
But on the border did not drag its tail.

The face was as the face of a just man,  
Its semblance outwardly was so benign,  
And of a serpent all the trunk beside.

Two paws it had, hairy unto the armpits;  
The back, and breast, and both the sides it had  
Depicted o'er with nooses and with shields.

With colours more, groundwork or broidery  
Never in cloth did Tartars make nor Turks,  
Nor were such tissues by Arachne laid.

As sometimes wherries lie upon the shore,  
That part are in the water, part on land;  
And as among the guzzling Germans there,

The beaver plants himself to wage his war;  
So that vile monster lay upon the border,  
Which is of stone, and shutteth in the sand.

His tail was wholly quivering in the void,  
Contorting upwards the envenomed fork,  
That in the guise of scorpion armed its point.

The Guide said:"Now perforce must turn aside  
Our way a little, even to that beast  
Malevolent, that yonder coucheth him."

We therefore on the right side descended,  
And made ten steps upon the outer verge,  
Completely to avoid the sand and flame;

And after we are come to him, I see  
A little farther off upon the sand  
A people sitting near the hollow place.

Then said to me the Master:"So that full  
Experience of this round thou bear away,  
Now go and see what their condition is.

There let thy conversation be concise;  
Till thou returnest I will speak with him,  
That he concede to us his stalwart shoulders."

Thus farther still upon the outermost  
Head of that seventh circle all alone  
I went, where sat the melancholy folk.

Out of their eyes was gushing forth their woe;  
This way, that way, they helped them with their hands  
Now from the flames and now from the hot soil.

Not otherwise in summer do the dogs,  
Now with the foot, now with the muzzle, when so  
By fleas, or flies, or gadflies, they are bitten.

When I had turned mine eyes upon the faces  
Of some, on whom the dolorous fire is falling,  
Not one of them I knew; but I perceived

That from the neck of each there hung a pouch,  
Which certain colour had, and certain blazon;  
And thereupon it seems their eyes are feeding.

And as I gazing round me come among them,  
Upon a yellow pouch I azure saw  
That had the face and posture of a lion.

Proceeding then the current of my sight,  
Another of them saw I, red as blood,  
Display a goose more white than butter is.

And one, who with an azure sow and gravid  
Emblazoned had his little pouch of white,  
Said unto me:"What dost thou in this moat?

Now get thee gone; and since thou'rt still alive,  
Know that a neighbour of mine, Vitaliano,  
Will have his seat here on my left-hand side.

A Paduan am I with these Florentines;  
Full many a time they thunder in mine ears,  
Exclaiming, ' Come the sovereign cavalier,

He who shall bring the satchel with three goats;"'  
Then twisted he his mouth, and forth he thrust  
His tongue, like to an ox that licks its nose.

And fearing lest my longer stay might vex  
Him who had warned me not to tarry long,  
Backward I turned me from those weary souls.

I found my Guide, who had already mounted  
Upon the back of that wild animal,  
And said to me: " Now be both strong and bold.

Now we descend by stairways such as these;  
Mount thou in front, for I will be midway,  
So that the tail may have no power to harm thee."

Such as he is who has so near the ague  
Of quartan that his nails are blue already,  
And trembles all, but looking at the shade;

Even such became I at those proffered words;  
But shame in me his menaces produced,  
Which maketh servant strong before good master.

I seated me upon those monstrous shoulders;  
I wished to say, and yet the voice came not  
As I believed, " Take heed that thou embrace me."

But he, who other times had rescued me  
In other peril, soon as I had mounted,  
Within his arms encircled and sustained me,

And said:"Now, Geryon, bestir thyself;  
The circles large, and the descent be little;  
Think of the novel burden which thou hast."

Even as the little vessel shoves from shore,  
Backward, still backward, so he thence withdrew;  
And when he wholly felt himself afloat,

There where his breast had been he turned his tail,  
And that extended like an eel he moved,  
And with his paws drew to himself the air.

A greater fear I do not think there was  
What time abandoned Phaeton the reins,  
Whereby the heavens, as still appears, were scorched;

Nor when the wretched Icarus his flanks  
Felt stripped of feathers by the melting wax,  
His father crying,"An ill way thou takest!"

Than was my own, when I perceived myself  
On all sides in the air, and saw extinguished  
The sight of everything but of the monster.

Onward he goeth, swimming slowly, slowly;  
Wheels and descends, but I perceive it only  
By wind upon my face and from below.

I heard already on the right the whirlpool  
Making a horrible crashing under us;  
Whence I thrust out my head with eyes cast downward.

Then was I still more fearful of the abyss;  
Because I fires beheld, and heard laments,  
Whereat I, trembling, all the closer cling.

I saw then, for before I had not seen it,  
The turning and descending, by great horrors  
That were approaching upon divers sides.

As falcon who has long been on the wing,  
Who, without seeing either lure or bird,  
Maketh the falconer say, " Ah me, thou stoopest,"

Descendeth weary, whence he started swiftly,  
Thorough a hundred circles, and alights  
Far from his master, sullen and disdainful;

Even thus did Geryon place us on the bottom,  
Close to the bases of the rough-hewn rock,  
And being disencumbered of our persons,

He sped away as arrow from the string.

CANTO 18

THERE is a place in Hell called Malebolge,  
Wholly of stone and of an iron colour,  
As is the circle that around it turns.

Right in the middle of the field malign  
There yawns a well exceeding wide and deep,  
Of which its place the structure will recount.

Round, then, is that enclosure which remains  
Between the well and foot of the high, hard bank,  
And has distinct in valleys ten its bottom.

As where for the protection of the walls  
Many and many moats surround the castles,  
The part in which they are a figure forms,

Just such an image those presented there;  
And as about such strongholds from their gates  
Unto the outer bank are little bridges,

So from the precipice's base did crags  
Project, which intersected dikes and moats,  
Unto the well that truncates and collects them.

Within this place, down shaken from the back  
Of Geryon, we found us; and the Poet  
Held to the left, and I moved on behind.

Upon my right hand I beheld new anguish,  
New torments, and new wielders of the lash,  
Wherewith the foremost Bolgia was replete.

Down at the bottom were the sinners naked;  
This side the middle came they facing us,  
Beyond it, with us, but with greater steps;

Even as the Romans, for the mighty host,  
The year of Jubilee, upon the bridge,  
Have chosen a mode to pass the people over;

For all upon one side towards the Castle  
Their faces have, and go unto St. Peter's;  
On the other side they go towards the Mountain.

This side and that, along the livid stone  
Beheld I horned demons with great scourges,  
Who cruelly were beating them behind.

Ah me!how they did make them lift their legs  
At the first blows ! and sooth not any one  
The second waited for, nor for the third.

While I was going on, mine eyes by one  
Encountered were; and straight I said:"Already  
With sight of this one I am not unfed."

Therefore I stayed my feet to make him out,  
And with me the sweet Guide came to a stand,  
And to my going somewhat back assented;

And he, the scourged one. thought to hide himself,  
Lowering his face, but little it availed him;  
For said I:"Thou that castest down thine eyes

If false are not the features which thou bearest;  
Thou art Venedico Caccianimico;  
But what doth bring thee to such pungent sauces ? "

And he to me:"Unwillingly I tell it;  
But forces me thine utterance distinct,  
Which makes me recollect the ancient world.

I was the one who the fair Ghisola  
Induced to grant the wishes of the Marquis,  
Howe'er the shameless story may be told.

Not the sole Bolognese am I who weeps here;  
Nay, rather is this place so full of them,  
That not so many tongues to-day are taught

'Twixt Reno and Savena to say sipa;  
And if thereof thou wishest pledge or proof,  
Bring to thy mind our avaricious heart."

While speaking in this manner, with his scourge  
A demon smote him, and said:"Get thee  
Pander, there are no women here for coin."

I joined myself again unto mine Escort;  
Thereafterward with footsteps few we came  
To where a crag projected from the bank.

This very easily did we ascend,  
And turning to the right along its ridge,  
From those eternal circles we departe.

When we were there, where it is hollowed out  
Beneath, to give a passage to the scourged,  
The Guide said: " Wait, and see that on thee strike

The vision of those others evil-born,  
Of whom thou hast not yet beheld the faces,  
Because together with us they have gone."

From the old bridge we looked upon the train  
Which tow'rds us came upon the other border,  
And which the scourges in like manner smite.

And the good Master, without my inquiring,  
Said to me: " See that tall one who is coming,  
And for his pain seems not to shed a tear;

Still what a royal aspect he retains!  
That Jason is, who by his heart and cunning  
The Colchians of the Ram made destitute.

He by the isle of Lemnos passed along  
After the daring women pitiless  
Had unto death devoted all their males.

There with his tokens and with ornate words  
Did he deceive Hypsipyle, the maiden  
Who first, herself, had all the rest deceived.

There did he leave her pregnant and forlorn;  
Such sin unto such punishment condemns him,  
And also for Medea is vengeance done.

With him go those who in such wise deceive;  
And this sufficient be of the first valley  
To know, and those that in its jaws it holds."

We were already where the narrow path  
Crosses athwart the second dike, and forms  
Of that a buttress for another arch.

Thence we heard people, who are making moan  
In the next Bolgia, snorting with their muzzles,  
And with their palms beating upon themselves

The margins were incrusted with a mould  
By exhalation from below, that sticks there,  
And with the eyes and nostrils wages war.

The bottom is so deep, no place suffices  
To give us sight of it, without ascending  
The arch's back, where most the crag impends.

Thither we came, and thence down in the moat  
I saw a people smothered in a filth  
That out of human privies seemed to flow

And whilst below there with mine eve I search,  
I saw one with his head so foul with ordure,  
It was not clear if he were clerk or layman.

He screamed to me:"Wherefore art thou so eager  
To look at me more than the other foul ones?"  
And I to him:"Because, if I remember,

I have already seen thee with dry hair,  
And thou'rt Alessio Interminei of Lucca;  
Therefore I eye thee more than all the others."

And he thereon, belabouring his pumpkin:  
"The flatteries have submerged me here below,  
Wherewith my tongue was never surfeited."

Then said to me the Guide:"See that thou thrust  
Thy visage somewhat farther in advance,  
That with thine eyes thou well the face attain

Of that uncleanly and dishevelled drab,  
Who there doth scratch herself with filthy nails,  
And crouches now, and now on foot is standing.

Thais the harlot is it, who replied  
Unto her paramour, when he said,'Have I  
Great gratitude from thee ?'-' Nay, marvellous ;

And herewith let our sight be satisfied."

CANTO 19

O SIMON MAGUS,  
O forlorn disciples,  
Ye who the things of God, which ought to be  
The brides of holiness, rapaciously

For silver and for gold do prostitute,  
Now it behoves for you the trumpet sound,  
Because in this third Bolgia ye abide.

We had already on the following tomb  
Ascended to that portion of the crag  
Which o er the middle of the moat hangs plumb.

Wisdom supreme, O how great art thou showest  
In heaven, in earth, and in the evil world,  
And with what justice doth thy power distribute !

I saw upon the sides and on the bottom  
The livid stone with perforations filled,  
All of one size, and every one was round.

To me less ample seemed they not, nor greater  
Than those that in my beautiful Saint John  
Are fashioned for the place of the baptisers,

And one of which, not many years ago,  
I broke for some one, who was drowning in it;  
Be this a sea! all men to undeceive.

Out of the mouth of each one there protruded  
The feet of a transgressor, and the legs  
Up to the calf, the rest within remained.

In all of them the soles were both on fire;  
Wherefore the joints so violently quivered,  
They would have snapped asunder withes and bands.

Even as the flame of unctuous things is wont  
To move upon the outer surface only,  
So likewise was it there from heel to point.

"Master, who is that one who writhes himself,  
More than his other comrades quivering,"  
I said. " and whom a redder flame is sucking?"

And he to me:"If thou wilt have me bear thee  
Down there along that bank which lowest lies,  
From him thou'lt know his errors and himself."

And I:"What pleases thee, to me is pleasing;  
Thou art my Lord, and knowest that I depart not  
From thy desire, and knowest what is not spoken."

Straightway upon the fourth dike we arrived;  
We turned, and on the left-hand side descended  
Down to the bottom full of holes and narrow.

And the good Master yet from off his haunch  
Deposed me not, till to the hole he brought me  
Of him who so lamented with his shanks.

"Whoe'er thou art, that standest upside down,  
O doleful soul, implanted like a stake,"  
To say began I, " if thou canst, speak out."

I stood even as the friar who is confessing  
The false assassin, who, when he is fixed,  
Recalls him, so that death may be delayed.

And he cried out:"Dost thou stand there already,  
Dost thou stand there already, Boniface?  
By many years the record lied to me.

Art thou so early satiate with that wealth,  
For which thou didst not fear to take by fraud  
The beautiful Lady, and then work her woe?"

Such I became, as people are who stand,  
Not comprehending what is answered them,  
As if bemocked, and know not how to answer.

Then said Virgilius:"Say to him straightway,  
'I am not he, I am not he thou thinkest."  
And I replied as was imposed on me.

Whereat the spirit writhed with both his feet,  
Then, sighing, with a voice of lamentation  
Said to me: " Then what wantest thou of me?

If who I am thou carest so much to know,  
That thou on that account hast crossed the bank,  
now that I vested was with the great mantle;

And truly was I son of the She-bear,  
So eager to advance the cubs, that wealth  
Above, and here myself,I pocketed.

Beneath my head the others are dragged down  
Who have preceded me in simony,  
Flattened along the fissure of the rock.

Below there I shall likewise fall, whenever  
That one shall come who I believed thou wast,  
What time the sudden question I proposed.

But lon er I my feet already toast,  
And here have been in this way upside down.  
Than he will planted stay with reddened feet;

For after him shall come of fouler deed  
From tow'rds the west a Pastor without law,  
Such as befits to cover him and me.

New Jason will he be, of whom we read  
In Maccabees j and as his king was pliant,  
So he who governs France shall be to this one."

I do not know if I were here too bold,  
That him I answered only in this metre:  
"I pray thee tell me now how great a treasure

Our Lord demanded of Saint Peter first,  
Before he put the keys into his keeping?  
Truly he nothing asked but 'Follow me.'

Nor Peter nor the rest asked of Matthias  
Silver or gold, when he by lot was chosen  
Unto the place the guilty soul had lost.

Therefore stay here, for thou art justly punished,  
And keep safe guard o'er the ill-gotten money,  
Which caused thee to be valiant against Charles.

And were it not that still forbids it me  
The reverence for the keys superlative  
Thou hadst in keeping in the gladsome life,

I would make use of words more grievous still;  
Because your avarice afflicts the world,  
Trampling the good and lifting the depraved.

The Evangelist you Pastors had in mind,  
When she who sitteth upon many waters  
To fornicate with kings by him was seen;

The same who with the seven heads was born,  
And power and strength from the ten horns received,  
So long as virtue to her spouse was pleasing.

Ye have made yourselves a god of gold and silver;  
And from the idolater how differ ye,  
Save that he one, and ye a hundred worship?

Ah, Constantine ! of how much ill was mother,  
Not thy conversion, but that marriage dower  
Which the first wealthy Father took from thee!"

And while I sang to him such notes as these.  
Either that anger or that conscience stung him,  
He struggled violently with both his feet.

I think in sooth that it my Leader pleased,  
With such contented lip he listened ever  
Unto the sound of the true words expressed.

Therefore with both his arms he took me up,  
And when he had me all upon his breast,  
Remounted by the way where he descended.

Nor did he tire to have me clasped to him;  
Rut bore me to the summit of the arch  
Which from the fourth dike to the fifth is passage.

There tenderly he laid his burden down,  
Tenderly on the crag uneven and steep,  
That would have been hard passage for the goats:

Thence was unveiled to me another valley.

CANTO 20

OF a new pain behoves me to make verses  
And give material to the twentieth canto  
Of the first song, which is of the submerged.

I was already thoroughly disposed  
To peer down into the uncovered depth,  
Which bathed itself with tears of agony;

And people saw I through the circular valley,  
Silent and weeping, coming at the pace  
Which in this world the Litanies assume.

As lower down my sight descended on them,  
Wondrously each one seemed to be distorted  
From chin to the beginning of the chest;

For tow'rds the reins the countenance was turned,  
And backward it behoved them to advance,  
As to look forward had been taken from them.

Perchance indeed by violence of palsy  
Some one has been thus wholly turned awry;  
But I ne'er saw it. nor believe it can be.

As God may let thee, Reader, gather fruit  
From this thy reading,think now for thyself  
How I could ever keep my face unmoistened,

When our own image near me I beheld  
Distorted so, the weeping of the eyes  
Along the fissure bathed the hinder parts.

Truly I wept, leaning upon a peak  
Of the hard crag, so that my Escort said  
To me:"Art thou, too, of the other fools?

Here pity lives when it is wholly dead;  
Who is a greater reprobate than he  
Who feels compassion at the doom divine?

Lift up,lift up thy head, and see for whom  
opened the earth before the Thebans' eyes;  
Wherefore they all cried: ' Whither rushest thou,

Amphiaraus? Why dost leave the war?'  
And downward ceased he not to fall amain  
As far as Minos, who lays hold on all.

See, he has made a bosom of his shoulders!  
Because he wished to see too far before him  
Behind he looks, and backward goes his way:

Behold Tiresias, who his semblance changed,  
When from a male a female he became,  
His members being all of them transformed;

And afterwards was forced to strike once more  
The two entangled serpents with his rod,  
Ere he could have again his manly plumes.

That Aruns is, who backs the other's belly,  
Who in the hills of Luni, there where grubs  
The Carrarese who houses underneath,

Among the marbles white a cavern had  
For his abode; whence to behold the stars  
And sea, the view was not cut off from him.

And she there, who is covering up her breasts,  
Which thou beholdest not, with loosened tresses,  
And on that side has all the hairy skin,

Was Manto, who made quest through many lands,  
Afterwards tarried there where I was born;  
Whereof I would thou list to me a little.

After her father had from life departed,  
And the city of Bacchus had become enslaved,  
She a long season wandered through the world.

Above in beauteous Italy lies a lake  
At the Alp's foot that shuts in Germany  
Over Tyrol, and has the name Benaco.

By a thousand springs, I think, and more, is bathed,  
'Twixt Garda and Val Camonica, Pennino,  
With water that grows stagnant in that lake.

Midway a place is where the Trentine Pastor,  
And he of Brescia, and the Veronese  
Might give his blessing, if he passed that way.

Sitteth Peschiera, fortress fair and strong,  
To front the Brescians and the Bergamasks,  
Where round about the bank descendeth lowest.

There of necessity must fall whatever  
In bosom of Benaco cannot stay,  
And grows a river down through verdant pastures.

Soon as the water doth begin to run  
No more Benaco is it called, but Mincio,  
Far as Governo, where it falls in Po.

Not far it runs before it finds a plain  
In which it spreads itself, and makes it marshy,  
And oft 'tis wont in summer to be sickly.

Passing that way the virgin pitiless  
Land in the middle of the fen descried,  
Untilled and naked of inhabitants;

There to escape all human intercourse,  
She with her servants stayed, her arts to practise  
And lived, and left her empty body there.

The men, thereafter, who were scattered round,  
Collected in that place, which was made strong  
By the lagoon it had on every side;

They built their city over those dead bones,  
And, after her who first the place selected,  
Mantua named it, without other omen.

Its people once within more crowded were,  
Ere the stupidity of Casalodi  
From Pinamonte had received deceit.

Therefore I caution thee, if e'er thou hearest  
Originate my city otherwise,  
No falsehood may the verity defraud."

And I:"My Master, thy discourses are  
To me so certain, and so take my faith,  
That unto me the rest would be spent coals.

But tell me of the people who are passing,  
If any one note-worthy thou beholdest,  
For only unto that my mind reverts."

Then said he to me:"He who from the cheek  
Thrusts out his beard upon his swarthy shoulders  
Was, at the time when Greece was void of males,

So that there scarce remained one in the cradle,  
An augur, and with Calchas gave the moment,  
In Aulis, when to sever the first cable.

Eryphylus his name was, and so sings  
My lofty Tragedy in some part or other;  
That knowest thou well, who knowest the whole of it.

The next, who is so slender in the flanks,  
Was Michael Scott, who of a verity  
Of magical illusions knew the game.

Behold Guido Bonatti, behold Asdente  
Who now unto his leather and his thread  
Would fain have stuck, but he too late repents.

Behold the wretched ones, who left the needle,  
The spool and rock, and made them fortune-tellers;  
They wrought their magic spells with herb and image.

But come now, for already holds the confines  
Of both the hemispheres, and under Seville  
Touches the ocean-wave, Cain and the thorns,

And yesternight the moon was round already;  
Thou shouldst remember well it did not harm thee  
From time to time within the forest deep."

Thus spake he to me, and we walked the while.

CANTO 21

FROM bridge to bridge thus, speaking other things  
Of which my Comedy cares not to sing,  
We came along, and held the summit, when

We halted to behold another fissure  
Of Malebolge and other vain laments;  
And I beheld it marvellously dark.

As in the Arsenal of the Venetians  
Boils in the winter the tenacious pitch  
To smear their unsound vessels o'er again,

For sail they cannot; and instead thereof  
One makes his vessel new, and one recaulks  
The ribs of that which many a voyage has made;

One hammers at the prow, one at the stern,  
This one makes oars, and that one cordage twists,  
Another mends the mainsail and the mizzen;

Thus, not by fire, but by the art divine,  
Was boiling down below there a dense pitch  
Which upon every side the bank belimed.

I saw it, but I did not see within it  
Aught but the bubbles that the boiling raised,  
And all swell up and resubside compressed.

The while below there fixedly I gazed,  
My Leader, crying out: " Beware, beware!"  
Drew me unto himself from where I stood.

Then I turned round, as one who is impatient  
To see what it behoves him to escape,  
And whom a sudden terror doth unman.

Who, while he looks, delays not his departure;  
And I beheld behind us a black devil,  
Running along upon the crag, approach.

Ah, how ferocious was he in his aspect!  
And how he seemed to me in action ruthless,  
With open wings and light upon his feet!

His shoulders, which sharp-pointed were and high,  
A sinner did encumber with both haunches,  
And he held clutched the sinews of the feet.

From off our bridge, he said: "O Malebranche,  
Behold one of the elders of Saint Zita;  
Plunge him beneath, for I return for others

Unto that town, which is well furnished with them.  
All there are barrators, except Bonturo;  
No into Yes for money there is changed."

He hurled him down, and over the hard crag  
Turned round, and never was a mastiff loosened  
In so much hurry to pursue a thief.

The other sank, and rose again face downward;  
But the demons, under cover of the bridge,  
Cried:"Here the Santo Volto has no place!

Here swims one otherwise than in the Serchio;  
Therefore, if for our gaffs thou wishest not,  
Do not uplift thyself above the pitch."

They seized him then with more than a hundred rakes;  
They said: " It here behoves thee to dance covered,  
That, if thou canst, thou secretly mayest pilfer."

Not otherwise the cooks their scullions make  
Immerse into the middle of the caldron  
The meat with hooks, so that it may not float.

Said the good Master to me:"That it be not  
Apparent thou art here, crouch thyself down  
Behind a jag, that thou mayest have some screen;

And for no outrage that is done to me  
Be thou afraid, because these things I know,  
For once before was I in such a scuffle."

Then he passed on beyond the bridge's head,  
And as upon the sixth bank he arrived,  
Need was for him to have a steadfast front.

With the same fury, and the same uproar,  
As dogs leap out upon a mendicant,  
Who on a sudden begs, where'er he stops,

They issued from beneath the little bridge,  
And turned against him all their grappling-irons;  
But he cried out: " Be none of you malignant!

Before those hooks of yours lay hold of me,  
Let one of you step forward, who may hear me,  
And then take counsel as to grappling me."

They all cried out:"Let Malacoda go;"  
Whereat one started, and the rest stood still,  
And he came to him, saying: " What avails it?"

"Thinkest thou, Malacoda, to behold me  
Advanced into this place,"my Master said,  
"Safe hitherto from all your skill of fence,

Without the will divine, and fate auspicious?  
Let me go on, for it in Heaven is willed  
That I another show this savage road."

Then was his arrogance so humbled in him,  
That he let fall his grapnel at his feet,  
And to the others said: " Now strike him not."

And unto me my Guide:"O thou, who sittest  
Among the splinters of the bridge crouched down,  
Securely now return to me again."

Wherefore I started and came swiftly to him;  
And all the devils forward thrust themselves,  
So that I feared they would not keep their compact.

And thus beheld I once afraid the soldiers  
Who issued under safeguard from Caprona,  
Seeing themselves among so many foes.

Close did I press myself with all my person  
Beside my Leader, and turned not mine eyes  
From off their countenance, which was not good.

They lowered their rakes, and "Wilt thou have me hit him," They  
said to one another, "on the rump?"  
And answered:"Yes; see that thou nick him with it."

But the same demon who was holding parley  
With my Conductor turned him very quickly,  
And said:"Be quiet, be quiet, Scarmiglione;"

Then said to us:"You can no farther go  
Forward upon this crag, because is Iying  
All shattered, at the bottom, the sixth arch.

And if it still doth please you to go onward,  
Pursue your way along upon this rock;  
Near is another crag that yields a path.

Yesterday, five hours later than this hour,  
One thousand and two hundred sixty-six  
Years were complete, that here the way was broken.

I send in that direction some of mine  
To see if any one doth air himself;  
Go ye with them; for they will not be vicious.

Step forward, Alichino and Calcabrina,"  
Began he to cry out, " and thou, Cagnazzo;  
And Barbariccia, do thou guide the ten.

Come forward, Libicocco and Draghignazzo,  
And tusked Ciriatto and Graffiacane,  
And Farfarello and mad Rubicante;

Search ye all round about the boiling pitch;  
Let these be safe as far as the next crag,  
That all unbroken passes o'er the dens."

"O me! what is it, Master, that I see?  
Pray let us go," I said, " without an escort,  
If thou knowest how, since for myself I ask none.

If thou art as observant as thy wont is,  
Dost thou not see that they do gnash their teeth,  
And with their brows are threatening woe to us?"

And he to me:"I will not have thee fear;  
Let them gnash on, according to their fancy,  
Because they do it for those boiling wretches."

Along the left-hand dike they wheeled about;  
But first had each one thrust his tongue between  
His teeth towards their leader for a signal;

And he had made a trumpet of his rump.

CANTO 22

I HAVE erewhile seen horsemen moving camp,  
Begin the storming, and their muster make,  
And sometimes starting off for their escape;

Vaunt-couriers have I seen upon your land,  
O Aretines, and foragers go forth,  
Tournaments stricken, and the joustings run,

Sometimes with trumpets and sometimes with bells,  
With kettle-drums, and signals of the castles,  
And with our own, and with outlandish things,

But never yet with bagpipe so uncouth  
Did I see horsemen move, nor infantry,  
Nor ship by any sign of land or star.

We went upon our way with the ten demons:  
Ah, savage company ! but in the church  
With saints, and in the tavern with the gluttons!

Ever upon the pitch was my intent,  
To see the whole condition of that Bolgia,  
And of the people who therein were burned.

Even as the dolphins, when they make a sign  
To mariners by arching of the back,  
That they should counsel take to save their vessel,

Thus sometimes, to alleviate his pain,  
One of the sinners would display his back,  
And in less time conceal it than it lightens.

As on the brink of water in a ditchThe frogs stand only with their muzzles out,  
So that they hide their feet and other bulk.

So upon every side the sinners stood;  
But ever as Barbariccia near them came,  
Thus underneath the boiling they withdrew.

I saw, and still my heart doth shudder at it,  
One waiting thus, even as it comes to pass  
One frog remains, and down another dives;

And Graffiacan, who most confronted him,  
Grappled him by his tresses smeared with pitch,  
And drew him up, so that he seemed an otter.

I knew, before, the names of all of them,  
So had I noted them when they were chosen,  
And when they called each other, listened how.

"O Rubicante, see that thou do lay  
Thy claws upon him, so that thou mayst flay him,"  
Cried all together the accursed ones.

And I:"My Master, see to it, if thou canst,  
That thou mayst know who is the luckless wight,  
Thus come into his adversaries' hands."

Near to the side of him my Leader drew,  
Asked of him whence he was; and he replied:  
"I in the kingdom of Navarre was born;

My mother placed me servant to a lord,  
For she had borne me to a ribald knave,  
Destroyer of himself and of his things.

Then I domestic was of good King Thibault;  
I set me there to practise barratry,  
For which I pay the reckoning in this heat."

And Ciriatto, from whose mouth projected,  
On either side, a tusk, as in a boar,  
Caused him to feel how one of them could rip.

Among malicious cats the mouse had come;  
But Barbariccia clasped him in his arms,  
And said: " Stand ye aside, while I enfork him."

And to my Master he turned round his head;  
"Ask him again," he said,"if more thou wish  
To know from him, before some one destroy him."

The Guide:"Now tell then of the other culprits;  
Knowest thou any one who is a Latian,  
Under the pitch ?" And he:"I separated

Lately from one who was a neighbour to it;  
Would that I still were covered up with him,  
For I should fear not either claw nor hook!"

And Libicocco:"We have borne too much;"  
And with his grapnel seized him by the arm,  
So that, by rending, he tore off a tendon.

Eke Draghignazzo wished to pounce upon him  
Down at the legs; whence their Decurion  
Turned round and round about with evil look.

When they again somewhat were pacified,  
Of him, who still was looking at his wound,  
Demanded my Conductor without stay:

"Who was that one, from whom a luckless parting  
Thou sayest thou hast made, to come ashore?"  
And he replied " It was the Friar Gomita,

He of Gallura, vessel of all fraud,  
Who had the enemies of his Lord in hand,  
And dealt so with them each exults thereat;

Money he took, and let them smoothly off,  
As he says; and in other offices  
A barrator was he, not mean but sovereign.

Foregathers with him one Don Michael Zanche  
Of Logodoro; and of Sardinia  
To gossip never do their tongues feel tired.

O me ! see that one, how he grinds his teeth;  
Still farther would I speak, but am afraid  
Lest he to scratch my itch be making ready."

And the grand Provost, turned to Farfarello,  
Who rolled his eyes about as if to strike,  
Said: " Stand aside there, thou malicious bird."

"If you desire either to see or hear,"  
The terror-stricken recommenced thereon,  
"Tuscans or Lombards. I will make them come.

But let the Malebranche cease a little,  
So that these may not their revenges fear,  
And I, down sitting in this very place,

For one that I am will make seven come,  
When I shall whistle, as our custom is  
To do whenever one of us comes out."

Cagnazzo at these words his muzzle lifted,  
Shaking his head, and said:"Just hear the trick  
Which he has thought of, down to throw himself!

Whence he, who snares in great abundance had,  
Responded: " I by far too cunning am,  
When I procure for mine a greater sadness."

Alichin held not in, but running counter  
Unto the rest, said to him:"If thou dive,  
I will not follow thee upon the gallop,

But I will beat my wings above the pitch;  
The height be left, and be the bank a shield  
To see if thou alone dost countervail us."

O thou who readest, thou shalt hear new sport!  
Each to the other side his eyes averted;  
He first, who most reluctant was to do it.

The Navarrese selected well his time;  
Planted his feet on land, and in a moment  
Leaped, and released himself from their design.

Whereat each one was suddenly stung with shame,  
But he most who was cause of the defeat;  
Therefore he moved, and cried: " Thou art o'ertakern."

But little it availed, for wings could not  
Outstrip the fear; the other one went under,  
And, flying, upward he his breast directed;

Not otherwise the duck upon a sudden  
Dives under, when the falcon is approaching,  
And upward he returneth cross and weary.

Infuriate at the mockery, Calcabrina  
Flying behind him followed close, desirous  
The other should escape, to have a quarrel.

And when the barrator had disappeared,  
He turned his talons upon his companion,  
And grappled with him right above the moat.

But sooth the other was a doughty sparhawk  
To clapperclaw him well; and both of them  
Fell in the middle of the boiling pond.

A sudden intercessor was the heat;  
But ne'ertheless of rising there was naught,  
To such degree they had their wings belimed.

Lamenting with the others, Barbariccia  
Made four of them fly to the other side  
With all their gaffs, and very speedily

This side and that they to their posts descended;  
They stretched their hooks towards the pitch-ensnared,  
Who were already baked within the crust,

And in this manner busied did we leave them.

CANTO 23

SILENT, alone, and without company  
We went, the one in front, the other after,  
As go the Minor Friars along their way

Upon the fable of Aesop was directed  
My thought, by reason of the present quarrel,  
Where he has spoken of the frog and mouse;

For mo and issa are not more alike  
Than this one is to that, if well we couple  
End and beginning with a steadfast mind.

And even as one thought from another springs,  
So afterward from that was born another,  
Which the first fear within me double made.

Thus did I ponder:"These on our account  
Are laughed to scorn, with injury and scoff  
So great, that much I think it must annoy them.

If anger be engrafted on ill-will,  
They will come after us more merciless  
Than dog upon the leveret which he seizes,"

I felt my hair stand all on end already  
With terror, and stood backwardly intent,  
When said I: " Master, if thou hidest not

Thyself and me forthwith, of Malebranche  
I am in dread; we have them now behind us;  
I so. imagine them, I already feel them"

And he:"If I were made of leaded glass  
Thine outward image I should not attract  
Sooner to me than I imprint the inner.

Just now thy thoughts came in among my own,  
With similar attitude and similar face,  
So that of both one counsel sole I made.

If peradventure the right bank so slope  
That we to the next Bolgia can descend.  
We shall escape from the imagined chase."

Not yet he finished rendering such opinion.  
When I beheld them come with outstretched wings,  
Not far remote, with will to seize upon us.

My Leader on a sudden seized me up,  
Even as a mother who by noise is wakened,  
And close beside her sees the enkindled flames,

Who takes her son, and flies, and does not stop,  
Having more care of him than of herself,  
So that she clothes her only with a shift;

And downward from the top of the hard bank  
Supine he gave him to the pendent rock,  
That one side of the other Bolgia walls.

Ne'er ran so swiftly water through a sluice  
To turn the water of any land-built mill,  
When nearest to the paddles it approaches,

As did my Master down along that border,  
Bearing me with him on his breast away,  
As his own son, and not as a companion.

Hardly the bed of the ravine below  
His feet had reached, ere they had reached the hill  
Right over us; but he was not afraid;

For the high Providence, which had ordained  
To place them ministers of the fifth moat,  
The power of thence departing took from all.

A painted people there below we found,  
Who went about with footsteps very slow,  
Weeping and in their semblance tired and vanquished.

They had on mantles with the hoods low down  
Before their eyes, and fashioned of the cut  
That in Cologne they for the monks arc made.

Without, they gilded are so that it dazzles;  
But inwardly all leaden and so heavy  
That Frederick used to put them on of straw.

O everlastingly fatiguing mantle!  
Again we turned us, still to the left hand  
Along with them, intent on their sad plaint;

But owing to the weight, that weary folk  
Came on so tardily, that we were new  
In company at each motion of the haunch.

Whence I unto my Leader:"See thou find  
Some one who may by deed or name be known,  
And thus in going move thine eye about."

And one,who understood the Tuscan speech  
Cried to us from behind:"Stay ye your feet  
Ye, who so run athwart the dusky air

Perhaps thou'lt have from me what thou demandest."  
Whereat the Leader turned him, and said:"Wait,  
And then according to his pace proceed."

I stopped, and two beheld I show great haste  
Of spirit, in their faces, to be with me;  
But the burden and the narrow way delayed them.

When they came up, long with an eye askance  
They scanned me without uttering a word.  
Then to each other turned, and said together:

"He by the action of his throat seems living;  
And if they dead are, by what privilege  
Go they uncovered by the heavy stole?"

Then said to me:"Tuscan, who to the college  
Of miserable hypocrites art come,  
Do not disdain to tell us who thou art."

And I to them:"Born was I, and grew up  
In the great town on the fair river of Arno,  
And with the body am I've always had.

But who are ye, in whom there trickles down  
Along your cheeks such grief as I behold?  
And what pain is upon you, that so sparkles?"

And one replied to me:"These orange cloaks  
Are made of lead so heavy, that the weights  
Cause in this way their balances to creak.

Frati Gaudenti were we, and Bolognese;  
I Catalano, and he Loderingo  
Named, and together taken by thy city,

As the wont is to take one man alone,  
For maintenance of its peace; and we were such  
That still it is apparent round Gardingo."

"O Friars,"began I,"your iniquitous ..."  
But said no more; for to mine eyes there rushed  
One crucified with three stakes on the ground.

When me he saw, he writhed himself all over,  
Blowing into his beard with suspirations;  
And the Friar Catalan, who noticed this,

Said to me:"This transfixed one, whom thou seest,  
Counselled the Pharisees that it was meet  
To put one man to torture for the people.

Crosswise and naked is he on the path,  
As thou perceivest; and he needs must feel,  
Whoever passes, first how much he weighs;

And in like mode his father-in-law is punished  
Within this moat, and the others of the council,  
Which for the Jews was a malignant seed."

And thereupon I saw Virgilius marvel  
O'er him who was extended on the cross  
So vilely in eternal banishment.

Then he directed to the Friar this voice:  
"Be not displeased, if granted thee, to tell us  
If to the right hand any pass slope down

By which we two may issue forth from here,  
Without constraining some of the black angels  
To come and extricate us from this deep."

Then he made answer:"Nearer than thou hopest  
There is a rock, that forth from the great circle  
Proceeds, and crosses all the cruel valleys,

Save that at this 'tis broken, and does not bridge it;  
You will be able to mount up the ruin,  
That sidelong slopes and at the bottom rises."

The Leader stood awhile with head bowed down;  
Then said: " The business badly he recounted  
Who grapples with his hook the sinners yonder."

And the Friar:"Many of the Devil's vices  
Once heard I at Bologna, and among them,  
That he's a liar and the father of lies."

Thereat my Leader with great strides went on,  
Somewhat disturbed with anger in his looks;  
Whence from the heavy-laden I departed

After the prints of his beloved feet.

CANTO 24

IN that part of the youthful year wherein  
The Sun his locks beneath Aquarius tempers,  
And now the nights draw near to half the day,

What time the hoar-frost copies on the ground  
The outward semblance of her sister white,  
But little lasts the temper of her pen,

The husbandman, whose forage faileth him,  
Rises, and looks, and seeth the champaign  
All gleaming white, whereat he beats his flank,

Returns in doors, and up and down laments,  
Like a poor wretch, who knows not what to do;  
Then he returns and hope revives again,

Seeing the world has changed its countenance  
In little time, and takes his shepherd's crook,  
And forth the little lambs to pasture drives.

Thus did the Master fill me with alarm  
When I beheld his forehead so disturbed,  
And to the ailment came as soon the plaster.

For as we came unto the ruined bridge  
The Leader turned to me with that sweet look  
Which at the mountain's foot I first beheld.

His arms he opened, after some advisement  
Within himself elected, looking first  
Well at the ruin, and laid hold of me.

And even as he who acts and meditates,  
For aye it seems that he provides beforehand,  
So upward lifting me towards the summit

Of a huge rock, he scanned another crag,  
Saying: " To that one grapple afterwards,  
But try first if 'tis such that it will hold thee."

This was no way for one clothed with a cloak;  
For hardly we, he light, and I pushed upward,  
Were able to ascend from jag to jag.

And had it not been, that upon that precinct  
Shorter was the ascent than on the other,  
He I know not, but I had been dead beat.

But because Malebolge tow'rds the mouth  
Of the profoundest well is all inclining,  
The structure of each valley doth import

That one bank rises and the other sinks.  
Still we arrived at length upon the point  
Wherefrom the last stone breaks itself asunder.

The breath was from my lungs so milked away,  
When I was up, that I could go no farther,  
Nay, I sat down upon my first arrival.

"Now it behoves thee thus to put off sloth,"  
My Master said; " for sitting upon down,  
Or under quilt, one cometh not to fame,

Withouten which whoso his life consumes  
Such vestige leaveth of himself on earth.  
As smoke in air or in the water foam.

And therefore raise thee up, o'ercome the anguish  
With spirit that o'ercometh every battle,  
If with its heavy body it sink not.

A longer stairway it behoves thee mount;  
'Tis not enough from these to have departed;  
Let it avail thee, if thou understand me."

Then I uprose,showing myself provided  
Better with breath than I did feel myself,  
And said: " Go on, for I am strong and bold."

Upward we took our way along the crag,  
Which jagged was, and narrow, and difficult,  
And more precipitous far than that before.

Speaking I went,not to appear exhausted;  
Whereat a voice from the next moat came forth,  
Not well adapted to articulate words.

I know not what it said, though o'er the back  
I now was of the arch that passes there;  
But he seemed moved to anger who was speaking

I was bent downward, but my living eyes  
Could not attain the bottom, for the dark;  
Wherefore I: " Master, see that thou arrive

At the next round, and let us descend the wall;  
For as from hence I hear and understand not,  
So I look down and nothing I distinguish."

"Other response,"he said,"I make thee not,  
Except the doing; for the modest asking  
Ought to be followed by the deed in silence."

We from the bridge descended at its head,  
Where it connects itself with the eighth bank,  
And then was manifest to me the Bolgia;

And I beheld therein a terrible throng  
Of serpents, and of such a monstrous kind,  
That the remembrance still congeals my blood

Let Libya boast no longer with her sand;  
For if Chelydri, Jaculi, and Pharae  
She breeds, with Cenchri and with Ammhisbaena.

Neither so many plagues nor so malignant  
E'er showed she with all Ethiopia,  
Nor with whatever on the Red Sea is!

Among this cruel and most dismal throng  
People were running naked and affrighted.  
Without the hope of hole or heliotrope.

They had their hands with serpents bound behind them;  
These riveted upon their reins the tail  
And head, and were in front of them entwined.

And lo! at one who was upon our side  
There darted forth a serpent, which transfixed him  
There where the neck is knotted to the shoulders.

Nor O so quickly e'er, nor I was written,  
As he took fire, and burned; and ashes wholly  
Behoved it that in falling he became.

And when he on the ground was thus destroyed,  
The ashes drew together, and of themselves  
Into himself they instantly returned.

Even thus by the great sages 'tis confessed  
The phoenix dies, and then is born again,  
When it approaches its five-hundredth year;

On herb or grain it feeds not in its life,  
But only on tears of incense and amomum,  
And nard and myrrh are its last winding-sheet.

And as he is who falls, and knows not how,  
By force of demons who to earth down drag him,  
Or other oppilation that binds man,

When he arises and around him looks,  
Wholly bewildered by the mighty anguish  
Which he has suffered, and in looking sighs;

Such was that sinner after he had risen.  
Justice of God! O how severe it is,  
That blows like these in vengeance poureth down!

The Guide thereafter asked him who he was;  
Whence he replied: " I rained from Tuscany  
A short time since into this cruel gorge.

A bestial life, and not a human, pleased me,  
Even as the mule I was; I'm Vanni Fucci,  
Beast, and Pistoia was my worthy den."

And I unto the Guide:"Tell him to stir not,  
And ask what crime has thrust him here below,  
For once a man of blood and wrath I saw him."

And the sinner, who had heard, dissembled not,  
But unto me directed mind and face,  
And with a melancholy shame was painted.

Then said: " It pains me more that thou hast caught me  
Amid this misery where thou seest me,  
Than when I from the other life was taken.

What thou demandest r cannot deny;  
So low am I put down because I robbed  
The sacristy of the fair ornaments,

And falsely once 'twas laid upon another;  
But that thou mayst not such a sight enjoy,  
If thou shalt e'er be out of the dark places,

Thine ears to my announcement ope and hear:  
Pistoia first of Neri groweth meagre;  
Then Florence doth renew her men and manners;

Mars draws a vapour up from Val di Magra,  
Which is with turbid clouds enveloped round,  
And with impetuous and bitter tempest

Over Campo Picen shall be the battle;  
When it shall suddenly rend the mist asunder,  
So that each Bianco shall thereby be smitten

And this I've said that it may give thee pain."

CANTO 25

At the conclusion of his words, the thief  
Lifted his hands aloft with both the figs,  
Crying : " Take that, God, for at thee I aim them."

From that time forth the serpents were my friends;  
For one entwined itself about his neck  
As if it said: " I will not thou speak more; "

And round his arms another, and rebound him,  
Clinching itself together so in front,  
That with them he could not a motion make,

Pistoia, ah, Pistoia ! why resolve not  
To burn thyself to ashes and so perish,  
Since in ill-doing thou thy seed excellest?

Through all the sombre circles of this Hell,  
Spirit I saw not against God so proud,  
Not he who fell at Thebes down from the walls!

He fled away, and spake no further word;  
And I beheld a Centaur full of rage  
Come crying out: " Where is, where is the scoffer?"

I do not think Maremma has so many  
Serpents as he had all along his back,  
As far as where our countenance begins.

Upon the shoulders, just behind the nape,  
With wings wide open was a dragon lying,  
And he sets fire to all that he encounters.

My Master said:"That one is Cacus, who  
Beneath the rock upon Mount Aventine  
Created oftentimes a lake of blood.

He goes not on the same road with his brothers,  
By reason of the fraudulent theft he made  
Of the great herd, which he had near to him;

Whereat his tortuous actions ceased beneath  
The mace of Hercules, who peradventure  
Gave him a hundred, and he felt not ten."

While he was speaking thus, he had passed by,  
And spirits three ha(l underneath us come,  
Of which nor I aware was, nor my Leader

Until what time they shouted: "Who are you?"  
On which account our story made a halt  
And then we were intent on them alone.

I did not know them; but it came to pass,  
As it is wont to happen by some chance,  
That one to name the other was compelled,

Exclaiming:"Where can Cianfa have remained?"  
Whence I, so that the Leader might attend,  
Upward from chin to nose my finger laid.

If thou art,Reader, slow now to believe  
What I shall say, it will no marvel be,  
For I who saw it hardly can admit it.

As I was holding raised on them my brows,  
Behold ! a serpent with six feet darts forth  
In front of one, and fastens wholly on him.

With middle feet it bound him round the paunch,  
And with the forward ones his arms it seized;  
Then thrust its teeth through one cheek and the other;

The hindermost it stretched upon his thighs,  
And put its tail through in between the two,  
And up behind along the reins outspread it.

Ivy was never fastened by its barbs  
Unto a tree so, as this horrible reptile  
Upon the other's limbs entwined its own.

Then they stuck close, as if of heated wax  
They had been made, and intermixed their colour;  
Nor one nor other seemed now what he was;

E'en as proceedeth on before the flame  
Upward along the paper a brown colour,  
Which is not black as yet, and the white dies.

The other two looked on, and each of them  
Cried out: " O me, Agnello, how thou changest!  
Behold, thou now art neither two nor one."

Already the two heads had one become,  
When there appeared to us two figures mingled  
Into one face, wherein the two were lost.

Of the four lists were fashioned the two arms,  
The thighs and legs, the belly and the chest  
Members became that never yet were seen.

Every original aspect there was cancelled;  
Two and yet none did the perverted image  
Appear, and such departed with slow pace.

Even as a lizard, under the great scourge  
Of days canicular, exchanging hedge,  
Lightning appeareth if the road it cross;

Thus did appear, coming towards the bellies  
Of the two others, a small fiery serpent,  
Livid and black as is a peppercorn.

And in that part whereat is first received  
Our aliment, it one of them transfixed;  
Then downward fell in front of him extended.

The one transfixed looked at it, but said naught;  
Nay, rather with feet motionless he yawned,  
Just as if sleep or fever had assailed him.

He at the serpent gazed, and it at him;  
One through the wound, the other through the mouth  
Smoked violently, and the smoke commingled.

Henceforth be silent Lucan, where he mentions  
Wretched Sabellus and Nassidius,  
And wait to hear what now wil be shot forth.

Be silent Ovid, of Cadmus and Arethusa;  
For if him to a snake, her to a fountain,  
Converts he fabling, that I grudge him not;

Because two natures never front to front  
Has he transmuted, so that both the forms  
To interchange their matter ready were.

Together they responded in such wise,  
That to a fork the serpent cleft his tail,  
And eke the wounded drew his feet together.

The legs together with the thighs themselves  
Adhered so, that in little time the juncture  
No sign whatever made that was apparent.

He with the cloven tail assumed the figure  
The other one was losing, and his skin  
Became elastic, and the other's hard.

I saw the arms draw inward at the armpits,  
And both feet of the reptile, that were short,  
Lengthen as much as those contracted were.

Thereafter the hind feet, together twisted,  
Became the member that a man conceals,  
And of his own the wretch had two created.

While both of them the exhalation veils  
With a new colour, and engenders hair  
On one of them and depilates the other,

The one uprose and down the other fell,  
Though turning not away their impious lamps,  
Underneath which each one his muzzle changed.

He who was standing drew it tow'rds the temples,  
And from excess of matter, which came thither,  
Issued the ears from out the hollow cheeks;

What did not backward run and was retained  
Of that excess made to the face a nose,  
And the lips thickened far as was befitting.

He who lay prostrate thrusts his muzzle forward,  
And backward draws the ears into his head,  
In the same manner as the snail its horns

And so the tongue, which was entire and apt  
For speech before, is cleft, and the bi-forked  
In the other closes up, and the smoke ceases.

The soul,which to a reptile had been changed,  
Along the valley hissing takes to flight,  
And after him the other speaking sputters.

Then did he turn upon him his new shoulders,  
And said to the other: " I'll have Buoso run,  
Crawling as I have done, along this road."

In this way I beheld the seventh ballast  
Shift and reshift, and here be my excuse  
The novelty, if aught my pen transgress.

And notwithstanding that mine eyes might be  
Somewhat bewildered, and my mind dismayed,  
They could not flee away so secretly

But that I plainly saw Puccio Sciancato;  
And he it was who sole of three companions,  
Which came in the beginning, was not changed;

The other was he whom thou, Gaville, weepest.

CANTO 26

REJOICE, 0 Florence, since thou art so great,  
That over sea and land thou beatest thy wings,  
And throughout Hell thy name is spread abroad

Among the thieves five citizens of thine  
Like these I found, whence shame comes unto me,  
And thou thereby to no great honour risest.

But if when morn is near our dreams are true,  
Feel shalt thou in a little time from now  
What Prato, if none other, craves for thee.

And if it now were, it were not too soon;  
Would that it were, seeing it needs must be,  
For 'twill aggrieve me more the more I age.

We went our way, and up along the stairs  
The bourns had made us to descend before,  
Remounted my Conductor and drew me.

And following the solitary path  
Among the rocks and ridges of the crag,  
The foot without the hand sped not at all.

Then sorrowed I, and sorrow now again,  
When I direct my mind to what I saw,  
And more my genius curb than I am wont,

That it may run not unless virtue guide it;  
So that if some good star, or better thing,  
Have given me good, I may myself not grudge it.

As many as the hind (who on the hill  
Rests at the time when he who lights the world  
His countenance keeps least concealed from us,

While as the fly gives place unto the gnat)  
Seeth the glow-worms down along the valley,  
Perchance there where he ploughs and makes his

With flames as manifold resplendent all  
Was the eighth Bolgia, as I grew aware  
As soon as I was where the depth appeared.

And such as he who with the bears avenged him  
Beheld Elijah's chariot at departing,  
What time the steeds to heaven erect uprose

For with his eye he could not follow it  
So as to see aught else than flame alone,  
Even as a little cloud ascending upward,

Thus each along the gorge of the intrenchment  
Was moving; for not one reveals the theft,  
And every flame a sinner steals away.

I stood upon the bridge uprisen to see,  
So that, if I had seized not on a rock,  
Down had I fallen without being pushed.

And the Leader, who beheld me so attent  
Exclaimed:"Within the fires the spirits are;  
Each swathes himself with that wherewith he burns."

'My Master," I replied,"by hearing thee  
I am more sure; but I surmised already  
It might be so, and already wished to ask thee

Who is within that fire, which comes so cleft  
At top, it seems uprising from the pyre  
Where was Eteocles with his brother placed."

He answered me:"Within there are tormented  
Ulysses and Diomed, and thus together  
They unto vengeance run as unto wrath.

And there within their flame do they lament  
The ambush of the horse, which made the door  
Whence issued forth the Romans' gentle seed;

Therein is wept the craft, for which being dead  
Deidamia still deplores Achilles,  
And pain for the Palladium there is borne."

"If they within those sparks possess the power  
To speak," I said, " thee, Master, much I pray,  
And re-pray, that the prayer be worth a thousand,

That thou make no denial of awaiting  
Until the horned flame shall hither come;  
Thou seest that with desire I lean towards it."

And he to me:"Worthy is thy entreaty  
Of much applause, and therefore I accept it;  
But take heed that thy tongue restrain itself.

Leave me to speak,because I have conceived  
That which thou wishest; for they might disdain  
Perchance, since they were Greeks, discourse of thine."

When now the flame had come unto that point,  
Where to my Leader it seemed time and place,  
After this fashion did I hear him speak:

"O ye, who are twofold within one fire,  
If I deserved of you, while I was living,  
If I deserved of you or much or little

When in the world I wrote the lofty verses,  
Do not move on, but one of you declare  
Whither, being lost, he went away to die."

Then of the antique flame the greater horn,  
Murmuring, began to wave itself about  
Even as a flame doth which the wind fatigues.

Thereafterward, the summit to and fro  
Moving as if it were the tongue that spake  
It uttered forth a voice, and said:"When I

From Circe had departed, who concealed me  
More than a year there near unto Gaeta,  
Or ever yet Aenas named it so,

Nor fondness for my son, nor reverence  
For my old father, nor the due affection  
Which joyous should have made Penelope,

Could overcome within me the desire  
I had to be experienced of the world,  
And of the vice and virtue of mankind;

But I put forth on the high open sea  
With one sole ship, and that small company  
By which I never had deserted been.

Both of the shores I saw as far as Spain,  
Far as Morocco. and the isle of Sardes,  
And the others which that sea bathes round about.

I and my company were old and slow  
When at that narrow passage we arrived  
Where Hercules his landmarks set as signals,

That man no farther onward should adventure.  
On the right hand behind me left I Seville,  
And on the other already had left Ceuta.

'O brothers, who amid a hundred thousand  
Perils,' I said, ' have come unto the West,  
To this so inconsiderable vigil

Which is remaining of your senses still  
Be ye unwilling to deny the knowledge,  
Following the sun, of the unpeopled world.

Consider ye the seed from which ye sprang;  
Ye were not made to live like unto brutes,  
But for pursuit of virtue and of knowledge.'

So eager did I render my companions,  
With this brief exhortation, for the voyage,  
That then I hardly could have held them back.

And having turned our stern unto the morning,  
We of the oars made wings for our mad flight,  
Evermore gaining on the larboard side.

Already all the stars of the other pole  
The night beheld, and ours so very low  
It did not rise above the ocean floor.

Five times rekindled and as many quenched  
Had been the splendour underneath the moon,  
Since we had entered into the deep pass,

When there appeared to us a mountain, dim  
From distance, and it seemed to me so high  
As I had never any one beheld.

Joyful were we, and soon it turned to weeping;  
For out of the new land a whirlwind rose,  
And smote upon the fore part of the ship.

Three times it made her whirl with all the waters,  
At the fourth time it made the stern uplift,  
And the prow downward go, as pleased Another,

Until the sea above us closed again."

CANTO 27

Already was the flame erect and quiet,  
To speak no more, and now departed from us  
With the permission of the gentle Poet;

When yet another, which behind it came,  
Caused us to turn our eyes upon its top  
By a confused sound that issued from it.

As the Sicilian bull (that bellowed first  
With the lament of him, and that was right,  
Who with his file had modulated it)

Bellowed so with the voice of the afflicted,  
That, notwithstanding it was made of brass,  
Still it appeared with agony transfixed;

Thus, by not having any way or issue  
At first from out the fire, to its own language  
Converted were the melancholy words.

But afterwards, when they had gathered way  
Up through the point, giving it that vibration  
The tongue had given them in their passage out,

We heard it said:"O thou, at whom I aim  
My voice, and who but now wast speaking Lombard,  
Saying,'Now go thy way, no more I urge thee,'

Because I come perchance a little late,  
To stay and speak with me let it not irk thee;  
Thou seest it irks not me, and I am burning.

If thou but lately into this blind world  
Hast fallen down from that sweet Latian land,  
Wherefrom I bring the whole of my transgression,

Say,if the Romagnuols have peace or war,  
For I was from the mountains there between  
Urbino and the yoke whence Tiber bursts."

I still was downward bent and listening,  
When my Conductor touched me on the side,  
Saying: " Speak thou: this one a Latian is."

And I, who had beforehand my reply  
In readiness, forthwith began to speak:  
"O soul, that down below there art concealed,

Romagna thine is not and never has been  
Without war in the bosom of its tyrants;  
But open war I none have left there now.

Ravenna stands as it long years has stood;  
The Eagle of Polenta there is brooding,  
So that she covers Cervia with her vans.

The city which once made the long resistance,  
And of the French a sanguinary heap,  
Beneath the Green Paws finds itself again;

Verrucchio's ancient Mastiff and the new,  
Who made such bad disposal of Montagna,  
Where they are wont make wimbles of their teeth.

The cities of Lamone and Santerno  
Governs the Lioncel of the white lair,  
Who changes sides 'twixt summer-time and winter;

And that of which the Savio bathes the flank,  
Even as it lies between the plain and mountain,  
Lives between tyranny and a free state.

Now I entreat thee tell us who thou art;  
Be not more stubborn than the rest have been,  
So may thy name hold front there in the world."

After the fire a little more had roared  
In its own fashion, the sharp point it moved  
This way and that, and then gave forth such breath:

"If I believed that my reply were made  
To one who to the world would e'er return,  
This flame without more flickering would stand still;

But inasmuch as never from this depth  
Did any one return, if I hear true,  
Without the fear of infamy I answer,

I was a man of arms, then Cordelier,  
Believing thus begirt to make amends;  
And truly my belief had been fulfilled

But for the High Priest, whom may ill betide,  
Who put me back into my former sins;  
And how and wherefore I will have thee hear.

While I was still the form of bone and pulp  
My mother gave to me, the deeds I did  
Were not those of a lion, but a fox.

The machinations and the covert ways  
I knew them all, and practised so their craft,  
That to the ends of earth the sound went forth.

When now unto that portion of mine age  
I saw myself arrived, when each one ought  
To lower the sails, and coil away the ropes,

That which before had pleased me then displeased me;  
And penitent and confessing I surrendered,  
Ah woe is me ! and it would have bestead me;

The Leader of the modern Pharisees  
Having a war near unto Lateran,  
And not with Saracens nor with the Jews,

For each one of his enemies was Christian,  
And none of them had been to conquer Acre,  
Nor merchandising in the Sultan's land,

Nor the high office, nor the sacred orders,  
In him regarded, nor in me that cord  
Which used to make those girt with it more meagre;

But even as Constantine sought out Sylvester  
To cure his leprosy, within Soracte,  
So this one sought me out as an adept

To cure him of the fever of his pride.  
Counsel he asked of me, and I was silent,  
Because his words appeared inebriate.

And then he said: 'Be not thy heart afraid;  
Henceforth I thee absolve; and thou instruct me  
How to raze Palestrina to the ground.

Heaven have I power to lock and to unlock,  
As thou dost know; therefore the keys are two,  
The which my predecessor held not dear.'

Then urged me on his weighty arguments  
There, where my silence was the worst advice;  
And said I:'Father, since thou washest me

Of that sin into which I now must fall,  
The promise long with the fulfilment short  
Will make thee triumph in thy lofty seat.'

Francis came afterward, when I was dead,  
For me; but one of the black Cherubim  
Said to him:'Take him not; do me no wrong;

He must come down among my servitors,  
Because he gave the fraudulent advice  
From which time forth I have been at his hair;

For who repents not cannot be absolved,  
Nor can one both repent and will at once,  
Because of the contradiction which consents not.

O miserable me! how I did shudder  
When he seized on me, saying: 'Peradventure  
Thou didst not think that I was a logician !'

He bore me unto Minos, who entwined  
Eight times his tail about his stubborn back,  
And after he had bitten it in great rage,

Said: 'Of the thievish fire a culprit this;'  
Wherefore, here where thou seest, am I lost,  
And vested thus in going I bemoan me."

When it had thus completed its recital,  
The flame departed uttering lamentations,  
Writhing and flapping its sharp-pointed horn.

Onward we passed, both I and my Conductor,  
Up o'er the crag above another arch,  
Which the moat covers, where is paid the fee

By those who, sowing discord, win their burden.

CANTO 28

WHO ever could, e'en with untrammelled words,  
Tell of the blood and of the wounds in full  
Which now I saw, by many times narrating?

Each tongue would for a certainty fall short  
By reason of our speech and memory,  
That have small room to comprehend so much

If were again assembled all the people  
Which formerly upon the fateful land  
Of Puglia were lamenting for their blood

Shed by the Romans and the lingering war  
That of the rings made such illustrious spoils,  
As Livy has recorded, who errs not,

With those who felt the agony of blows  
By making counterstand to Robert Guiscard,  
And all the rest, whose bones are gathered still

At Ceperano, where a renegade  
Was each Apulian, and at Tagliacozzo,  
Where without arms the old Alardo conquered,

And one his limb transpierced, and one lopped off,  
Should show, it would be nothing to compare  
With the disgusting mode of the ninth Bolgia.

A cask by losing centre-piece or cant  
Was never shattered so, as I saw one  
Rent from the chin to where one breaketh wind.

Between his legs were hanging down his entrails;  
His heart was visible, and the dismal sack  
That maketh excrement of what is eaten.

While I was all absorbed in seeing him,  
He looked at me, and opened with his hands  
His bosom, saying:"See now how I rend me;

How mutilated, see, is Mahomet;  
In front of me doth Ali weeping go,  
Cleft in the face from forelock unto chin;

And all the others whom thou here beholdest,  
Disseminators of scandal and of schism  
While living were, and therefore are cleft thus.

A devil is behind here, who doth cleave us  
Thus cruelly, unto the falchion's edge  
Putting again each one of all this ream,

When we have gone around the doleful road;  
By reason that our wounds are closed again  
Ere any one in front of him repass.

But who art thou, that musest on the crag,  
Perchance to postpone going to the pain  
That is adjudged upon thine accusations ?"

"Nor death hath reached him yet, nor guilt doth bring him," My  
Master made reply, " to be tormented;  
But to procure him full experience,

Me, who am dead, behoves it to conduct him  
Down here through Hell, from circle unto circle;  
And this is true as that I speak to thee."

More than a hundred were there when they heard him,  
Who in the moat stood still to look at me,  
Through wonderment oblivious of their torture.

"Now say to Fra Dolcino, then, to arm him,  
Thou, who perhaps wilt shortly see the sun,  
If soon he wish not here to follow me,

So with provisions,that no stress of snow  
May give the victory to the Novarese,  
Which otherwise to gain would not be easy."

After one foot to go away he lifted,  
This word did Mahomet say unto me,  
Then to depart upon the ground he stretched it.

Another one, who had his throat pierced through,  
And nose cut off close underneath the brows,  
And had no longer but a single ear,

Staying to look in wonder with the others,  
Before the others did his gullet open,  
Which outwardly was red in every part,

And said:"O thou, whom guilt doth not condemn,  
And whom I once saw up in Latian land,  
Unless too great similitude deceive me,

Call to remembrance Pier da Medicina,  
If e'er thou see again the lovely plain  
That from Vercelli slopes to Marcabo,

And make it known to the best two of Fano,  
To Messer Guido and Angiolello likewise,  
That if foreseeing here be not in vain,

Cast over from their vessel shall they be,  
And drowned near unto the Cattolica,  
By the betrayal of a tyrant fell.

Between the isles of Cyprus and Majorca  
Neptune ne'er yet beheld so great a crime  
Neither of pirates nor Argolic people.

That traitor, who sees only with one eye,  
And holds the land, which some one here with me  
Would fain be fasting from the vision of,

Will make them come unto a parley with him;  
Then will do so, that to Focara's wind  
They will not stand in need of vow or prayer."

And I to him:"Show to me and declare,  
If thou wouldst have me bear up news of thee,  
Who is this person of the bitter vision."

Then did he lay his hand upon the jaw  
Of one of his companions, and his mouth  
Oped, crying:"This is he, and he speaks not.

This one, being banished, every doubt submerged  
In Caesar by affirming the forearmed  
Always with detriment allowed delay."

O how bewildered unto me appeared,  
With tongue asunder in his windpipe slit,  
Curio, who in speaking was so bold !

And one, who both his hands dissevered had,  
The stumps uplifting through the murky air,  
So that the blood made horrible his face,

Cried out:"Thou shalt remember Mosca also,  
Who said, alas ! ' A thing done has an end!'  
Which was an ill seed for the Tuscan people

"And death unto thy race,"thereto I added;  
Whence he, accumulating woe on woe,  
Departed, like a person sad and crazed.

But I remained to look upon the crowd;  
And saw a thing which I should be afraid,  
Without some further proof, even to recount,

If it were not that conscience reassures me,  
That good companion which emboldens man  
Beneath the hauberk of its feeling pure.

I truly saw, and still I seem to see it,  
A trunk without a head walk in like manner  
As walked the others of the mournful herd.

And by the hair it held the head dissevered,  
Hung from the hand in fashion of a lantern,  
And that upon us gazed and said:"O me!"

It of itself made to itself a lamp,  
And they were two in one, and one in two;  
How that can be, He knows who so ordains it.

When it was come close to the bridge's foot,  
It lifted high its arm with all the head,  
To bring more closely unto us its words,

Which were:"Behold now the sore penalty,  
Thou, who dost breathing go the dead beholding;  
Behold if any be as great as this.

And so that thou may carry news of me,  
Know that Bertram de Born am I, the same  
Who gave to the Young King the evil comfort.

I made the father and the son rebellious;  
Achitophel not more with Absalom  
And David did with his accursed goadings.

Because I parted persons so united,  
Parted do I now bear my brain, alas!  
From its beginning, which is in this trunk.

Thus is observed in me the counterpoise."

CANTO 29

THE many people and the divers wounds  
These eyes of mine had so inebriated,  
That they were wishful to stand still and weep;

But said Virgilius:"What dost thou still gaze at?  
Why is thy sight still riveted down there  
Among the mournful, mutilated shades ?

Thou hast not done so at the other Bolge;  
Consider, if to count them thou believest,  
That two-and-twenty miles the valley winds,

And now the moon is underneath our feet;  
Henceforth the time allotted us is brief,  
And more is to be seen than what thou seest."

"If thou hadst," I made answer thereupon  
"Attended to the cause for which I looked,  
Perhaps a longer stay thou wouldst have pardoned."

Meanwhile my Guide departed, and behind him  
I went, already making my reply,  
And superadding: " In that cavern where

I held mine eyes with such attention fixed,  
I think a spirit of my blood laments  
The sin which down below there costs so much"

Then said the Master:"Be no longer broken  
Thy thought from this time forward upon him;  
Attend elsewhere, and there let him remain;

For him I saw below the little bridge,  
Pointing at thee, and threatening with his finger  
Fiercely, and heard him called Geri del Bello.

So wholly at that time wast thou impeded  
By him who formerly held Altaforte,  
Thou didst not look that way; so he departed."

"O my Conductor, his own violent death,  
Which is not yet avenged for him,"I said,  
"By any who is sharer in the shame,

Made him disdainful; whence he went away,  
As I imagine, without speaking to me,  
And thereby made me pity him the more."

Thus did we speak as far as the first place  
Upon the crag, which the next valley shows  
Down to the bottom, if there were more light.

When we were now right over the last cloister  
Of Malebolge, so that its lay-brothers  
Could manifest themselves unto our sight,

Divers lamentings pierced me through and through,  
Which with compassion had their arrows barbed,  
Whereat mine ears I covered with my hands.

What pain would be, if from the hospitals  
Of Valdichiana, 'twixt July and September,  
And of Maremma and Sardinia

All the diseases in one moat were gathered,  
Such was it here, and such a stench came from it  
As from putrescent limbs is wont to issue.

We had descended on the furthest bank  
From the long crag, upon the left hand still,  
And then more vivid was my power of sight

Down tow'rds the bottom, where the ministress  
Of the high Lord, Justice infallible,  
Punishes forgers, which she here records.

I do not think a sadder sight to see  
Was in Aegina the whole people sick,  
(When was the air so full of pestilence,

The animals, down to the little worm,  
All fell, and afterwards the ancient people,  
According as the poets have affirmed,

Were from the seed of ants restored again,)  
Than was it to behold through that dark  
The spirits languishing in divers heaps.

This on the belly, that upon the back  
One of the other lay, and others crawling  
Shifted themselves along the dismal road.

We step by step went onward without speech,  
Gazing upon and listening to the sick  
Who had not strength enough to lift their bodies.

I saw two sitting leaned against each other,  
As leans in heating platter against platter,  
From head to foot bespotted o'er with scabs;

And never saw I plied a currycomb  
By stable-boy for whom his master waits,  
Or him who keeps awake unwillingly,

As every one was plying fast the bite  
Of nails upon himself, for the great rage  
Of itching which no other succour had.

And the nails downward with them dragged the scab,  
In fashion as a knife the scales of bream,  
Or any other fish that has them largest.

"O thou, that with thy fingers dost dismail thee,"  
Began my Leader unto one of them,  
"And makest of them pincers now and then,

Tell me if any Latian is with those  
Who are herein; so may thy nails suffice thee  
To all eternity unto this work."

"Latians are we, whom thou so wasted seest,  
Both of us here," one weeping made reply;  
"But who art thou, that questionest about us?"

And said the Guide:"One am I who descends  
Down with this living man from cliff to cliff,  
And I intend to show Hell unto him."

Then broken was their mutual support,  
And trembling each one turned himself to me,  
With others who had heard him by rebound.

Wholly to me did the good Master gather,  
Saying:"Say unto them whate'er thou wishest."  
And I began, since he would have it so:

"So may your memory not steal away  
In the first world from out the minds of men,  
But so may it survive 'neath many suns,

Say to me who ye are, and of what people;  
Let not your foul and loathsome punishment  
Make you afraid to show yourselves to me."

"I of Arezzo was," one made reply,  
"And Albert of Siena had me burned;  
But what I died for does not bring me here.

'Tis true I said to him, speaking in jest,  
That I could rise by flight into the air,  
And he who had conceit, but little wit,

Would have me show to him the art; and only  
Because no Daedelus I made him, made me  
Be burned by one who held him as his son.

But unto the last Bolgia of the ten,  
For alchemy, which in the world I practised,  
Minos, who cannot err, has me condemned."

And to the Poet said I:"Now was ever  
So vain a people as the Sienese?  
Not for a certainty the French by far."

Whereat the other leper, who had heard me,  
Replied unto my speech:"Taking out Stricca,  
Who knew the art of moderate expenses,

And Niccolo, who the luxurious use  
Of cloves discovered earliest of all  
Within that garden where such seed takes root;

And taking out the band, among whom squandered  
Caccia d'Ascian his vineyards and vast woods,  
And where his wit the Abbagliato proffered!

But,that thou know who thus doth second thee  
Against the Sienese, make sharp thine eye  
Tow'rds me, so that my face well answer thee,

And thou shalt see I am Capocchio's shade,  
Who metals falsified by alchemy;  
Thou must remember, if I well descry thee,

How I a skilful ape of nature was."

CANTO 30

'TWAS at the time when Juno was enraged,  
For Semele, against the Theban blood,  
As she already more than once had shown,

So reft of reason Arthamas became,  
That, seeing his own wife with children twain  
Walking encumbered upon either hand,

He cried:"Spread out the nets, that I may take  
The lioness and her whelps upon the passage;"  
And then extended his unpitying claws,

Seizing the first, who had the name Learchus,  
And whirled him round, and dashed him on a rock;  
And she, with the other burthen, drowned herself;-

And at the time when fortune downward hurled  
The Trojan's arrogance, that all things dared,  
So that the king was with his kingdom crushed,

Hecuba sad, disconsolate, and captive,  
When lifeless she beheld Polyxena,  
And of her Polydorus on the shore

Of ocean was the dolorous one aware,  
Out of her senses like a dog she barked,  
So much the anguish had her mind distorted;

But not of Thebes the furies nor the Trojan  
Were ever seen in any one so cruel  
In goading beasts, and much more human members,

As I beheld two shadows pale and naked,  
Who, biting, in the manner ran along  
That a boar does, when from the sty turned loose.

One to Capocchio came, and by the nape  
Seized with its teeth his neck, so that in dragging  
It made his belly grate the solid bottom.

And the Aretine, who trembling had remained,  
Said to me: " That mad sprite is Gianni Schicchi,  
And raving goes thus harrying other people."

"O," said I to him, " so may not the other  
Set teeth on thee, let it not weary thee  
To tell us who it is, ere it dart hence."

And he to me:"That is the ancient ghost  
Of the nefarious Myrrha, who became  
Beyond all rightful love her father's lover.

She came to sir with him after this manner,  
By counterfeiting of another's form;  
As he who goeth yonder undertook,

That he might gain the lady of the herd,  
To counterfeit in himself Buoso Donati,  
Making a will and giving it due form."

And after the two maniacs had passed  
On whom I held mine eye, I turned it back  
To look upon the other evil-born.

I saw one made in fashion of a lute,  
If he had only had the groin cut off  
Just at the point at which a man is forked.

The heavy dropsy, that so disproportions  
The limbs with humours, which it ill concocts,  
That the face corresponds not to the belly,

Compelled him so to hold his lips apart  
As does the hectic, who because of thirst  
One tow'rds the chin, the other upward turns.

"O ye, who without any torment are,  
And why I know not, in the world of woe,"  
He said to us, " behold, and be attentive

Unto the misery of Master Adam;  
I had while living much of what I wished,  
And now, alas ! a drop of water crave.

The rivulets, that from the verdant hills  
Of Cassentin descend down into Arno,  
Making their channels to be cold and moist,

Ever before me stand, and not in vain;  
For far more doth their image dry me up  
Than the disease which strips my face of flesh.

The rigid justice that chastises me  
Draweth occasion from the place in which  
I sinned, to put the more my sighs in flight.

There is Romena, where I counterfeited  
The currency imprinted with the Baptist,  
For which I left my body burned above.

But if I here could see the tristful soul  
Of Guido, or Alessandro, or their brother,  
For Branda's fount I would Dot give the sight.

One is within already, if the raving  
Shades that are going round about speak truth;  
But what avails it me, whose limbs are tied ?

If I were only still so light, that in  
A hundred years I could advance one inch,  
I had already started on the way,

Seeking him out among this squalid folk,  
Although the circuit be eleven miles,  
And be not less than half a mile across.

For them am I in. such a family;  
They did induce me into coining florins,  
Which had three carats of impurity."

And I to him:"Who are the two poor wretches  
That smoke like unto a wet hand in winter,  
Lying there close upon thy right-hand confines?"

"I found them here,"replied he, "when I rained  
Into this chasm, and since they have not turned,  
Nor do I think they will for evermore.

One the false woman is who accused Joseph,  
The other the false Sinon, Greek of Troy;  
From acute fever they send forth such reek."

And one of them, who felt himself annoyed  
At being, peradventure, named so darkly,  
Smote with the fist upon his hardened paunch.

It gave a sound, as if it were a drum;  
And Master Adam smote him in the face,  
With arm that did not seem to be less hard,

Saying to him:"Although be taken from me  
All motion, for my limbs that heavy are,  
I have an arm unfettered for such need."

Whereat he answer made:"When thou didst go  
Unto the fire, thou hadst it not so ready:  
But hadst it so and more when thou wast coining."

The dropsical:"Thou sayest true in that;  
But thou wast not so true a witness there,  
Where thou wast questioned of the truth at Troy."

"If I spake false, thou falsifiedst the coin,"  
Said Sinon; " and for one fault I am here,  
And thou for more than any other demon."

"Remember,perjurer,about the horse,"  
He made reply who had the swollen belly,  
"And rueful be it thee the whole world knows it."

"Rueful to thee the thirst be wherewith cracks  
Thy tongue," the Greek said, " and the putrid water  
That hedges so thy paunch before thine eyes."

Then the false-coiner:"So is gaping wide  
Thy mouth for speaking evil, as 'tis wont;  
Because if I have thirst, and humour stuff me

Thou hast the burning and the head that aches,  
And to lick up the mirror of Narcissus  
Thou wouldst not want words many to invite thee."

In listening to them was I wholly fixed,  
When said the Master to me: " Now just look,  
For little wants it that I quarrel with thee."

When him I heard in anger speak to me,  
I turned me round towards him with such shame  
That still it eddies through my memory.

And as he is who dreams of his own harm,  
Who dreaming wishes it may be a dream,  
So that he craves what is, as if it were not;

Such I became, not having power to speak,  
For to excuse myself I wished, and still  
Excused myself, and did not think I did it.

"Less shame doth wash away a greater fault,"  
The Master said, " than this of thine has been;  
Therefore thyself disburden of all sadness,

And make account that I am aye beside thee,  
If e'er it come to pass that fortune bring thee  
Where there are people in a like dispute;

For a base wish it is to wish to hear it."

CANTO 31

ONE and the selfsame tongue first wounded me,  
So that it tinged the one cheek and the other,  
And then held out to me the medicine;

Thus do I hear that once Achilles' spear,  
His and his father's, used to be the cause  
First of a sad and then a gracious boon.

We turned our backs upon the wretched valley,  
Upon the bank that girds it round about,  
Going across it without any speech.

There it was less than night, and less than day,  
So that my sight went little in advance;  
But I could hear the blare of a loud horn,

So loud it would have made each thunder faint,  
Which, counter to it following its way,  
Mine eyes directed wholly to one place.

After the dolorous discomfiture  
When Charlemagne the holy emprise lost,  
So terribly Orlando sounded not.

Short while my head turned thitherward I held  
When many lofty towers I seemed to see,  
Whereat I: " Master, say, what town is this?

And he to me:"Because thou peerest forth  
Athwart the darkness at too great a distance,  
It happens that thou errest in thy fancy.

Well shalt thou see, if thou arrivest there,  
How much the sense deceives itself by distance;  
Therefore a little faster spur thee on."

Then tenderly he took me by the hand,  
And said: " Before we farther have advanced,  
That the reality may seem to thee

Less strange, know that these are not towers, but giants,  
And they are in the well, around the bank,  
From navel downward, one and all of them."

As, when the fog is vanishing away,  
Little by little doth the sight refigure  
Whate'er the mist that crowds the air conceals,

So, piercing through the dense and darksome air,  
More and more near approaching tow'rd the verge,  
My error fled, and fear came over me;

Because as on its circular parapets  
Montereggione crowns itself with towers,  
E'en thus the margin which surrounds the well

With one half of their bodies turreted  
The horrible giants, whom Jove menaces  
E'en now from out the heavens when he thunders.

And I of one already saw the face,  
Shoulders, and breast, and great part of the belly,  
And down along his sides both of the arms.

Certainly Nature, when she left the making  
Of animals like these, did well indeed,  
By taking such executors from Mars;

And if of elephants and whales she doth not  
Repent her, whosoever looketh subtly  
More just and more discreet will hold her for it;

For where the argument of intellect  
Is added unto evil will and power,  
No rampart can the people make against it.

His face appeared to me as long and large  
As is at Rome the pine-cone of Saint Peter's,  
And in proportion were the other bones;

So that the margin, which an apron was  
Down from the middle, showed so much of him  
Above it, that to reach up to his hair

Three Frieslanders in vain had vaunted them;  
For I beheld thirty great palms of him  
Down from the place where man his mantle buckles.

"Raphael mai amech izabi almi,"  
Began to clamour the ferocious mouth,  
To which were not befitting sweeter psalms.

And unto him my Guide:"Soul idiotic,  
Keep to thy horn, and vent thyself with that,  
When wrath or other passion touches thee.

Search round thy neck, and thou wilt find the belt  
Which keeps it fastened,O bewildered soul  
And see it, where it bars thy mighty breast."

Then said to me:"He doth himself accuse;  
This one is Nimrod, by whose evil thought  
One language in the world is not still used.

Here let us leave him and not speak in vain;  
For even such to him is every language  
As his to others, which to none is known."

Therefore a longer journey did we make,  
Turned to the left, and a crossbow-shot oft  
We found another far more fierce and large.

In binding him, who might the master be  
I cannot say; but he had pinioned close  
Behind the right arm, and in front the other,

With chains, that held him so begirt about  
From the neck down, that on the part uncovered  
It wound itself as far as the fifth gyre.

"This proud one wished to make experiment  
Of his own power against the Supreme Jove,"  
My Leader said, " whence he has such a guerdon.

Ephialtes is his name; he showed great prowess.  
What time the giants terrified the gods;  
The arms he wielded never more he moves."

And I to him:"If possible, I should wish  
That of the measureless Briareus  
These eyes of mine might have experience."

Whence he replied:"Thou shalt behold Antaeus  
Close by here, who can speak and is unbound,  
Who at the bottom of all crime shall place us.

Much farther yon is he whom thou wouldst see,  
And he is bound, and fashioned like to this one,  
Save that he seems in aspect more ferocious."

There never was an earthquake of such might  
That it could shake a tower so violently,  
As Ephialtes suddenly shook himself

Then was I more afraid of death than ever,  
For nothing more was needful than the fear,  
If I had not beheld the manacles.

Then we proceeded farther in advance,  
And to Antaeus came, who, full five ells  
Without the head, forth issued from the cavern.

"O thou,who in the valley fortunate,  
Which Scipio the heir of glory made,  
When Hannibal turned back with all his hosts,

Once brought'st a thousand lions for thy prey,  
And who, hadst thou been at the mighty war  
Among thy brothers, some it seems still think

The sons of Earth the victory would have gained:  
Place us below, nor be disdainful of it,  
There where the cold doth lock Cocytus up.

Make us not go to Tityus nor Typhoeus;  
This one can give of that which here is longed for;  
Therefore stoop down, and do not curl thy lip.

Still in the world can he restore thy fame;  
Because he lives, and still expects long life,  
If to itself Grace call him not untimely."

So said the Master; and in haste the other  
His hands extended and took up my Guide,-  
Hands whose great pressure Hercules once felt.

Virgilius, when he felt himself embraced,  
Said unto me: " Draw nigh, that I may take thee; "  
Then of himself and me one bundle made.

As seems the Carisenda, to behold  
Beneath the leaning side, when goes a cloud  
Above it so that opposite it hangs;

Such did Antaeus seem to me, who stood  
Watching to see him stoop, and then it was  
I could have wished to go some other way.

But lightly in the abyss, which swallows up  
Judas with Lucifer, he put us down;  
Nor thus bowed downward made he there delay,

But, as a mast does in a ship, uprose.

CANTO 32

IF I had rhymes both rough and stridulous,  
As were appropriate to the dismal hole  
Down upon which thrust all the other rocks,

I would press out the juice of my conception  
More fully; but because I have them not,  
Not without fear I bring myself to speak;

For 'tis no enterprise to take in jest,  
To sketch the bottom of all the universe,  
Nor for a tongue that cries Mamma and Babbo.

But may those Ladies help this verse of mine,  
Who helped Amphion in enclosing Thebes,  
That from the fact the word be not diverse.

O rabble ill-begotten above all,  
Who're in the place to speak of which is hard,  
'Twere better ye had here been sheep or goats !

When we were down within the darksome well,  
Beneath the giant's feet, but lower far,  
And I was scanning still the lofty wall,

heard it said to me:"Look how thou steppest!  
Take heed thou do not trample with thy feet  
The heads of the tired, miserable brothers!"

Whereat I turned me round, and saw before me  
And underfoot a lake, that from the frost  
The semblance had of glass, and not of water.

So thick a veil ne'er made upon its current  
In winter-time Danube in Austria,  
Nor there beneath the frigid sky the Don,

As there was here; so that if Tambernich  
Had fallen upon it, or Pietrapana,  
E'en at the edge 'twould not have given a creak.

And as to croak the frog doth place himself  
With muzzle out of water,-when is dreaming  
Of gleaning oftentimes the peasant-girl,-

Livid, as far down as where shame appears,  
Were the disconsolate shades within the ice,  
Setting their teeth unto the note of storks.

Each one his countenance held downward bent:  
From mouth the cold, from eyes the doeful heart  
Among them witness of itself procures.

When round about me somewhat I had looked,  
I downward turned me, and saw two so close,  
The hair upon their heads together mingled.

"Ye who so strain your breasts together, tell me,"  
I said. "who are you;" and they bent their necks,  
And when to me their faces they had lifted,

Their eyes, which first were only moist within,  
Gushed o'er the eyelids, and the frost congealed  
The tears between, and locked them up again.

Clamp never bound together wood with wood  
So strongly; whereat they, like two he-goats,  
Butted together, so much wrath o'ercame them.

And one, who had by reason of the cold

Lost both his ears, still with his visage downward,  
Said:"Why dost thou so mirror thyself in us?

If thou desire to know who these two are,  
The valley whence Bisenzio descends  
Belonged to them and to their father Albert.

They from one body came, and all Caina  
Thou shalt search through, and shalt not find a shade  
More worthy to be fixed in gelatine;

Not he in whom were broken breast and shadow  
At one and the same blow by Arthur's hand;  
Focaccia not; not he who me encumbers

So with his head I see no farther forward,  
And bore the name of Sassol Mascheroni;  
Well knowest thou who he was, if thou art Tuscan.

And that thou put me not to further speech,  
Know that I Camicion de' Pazzi was,  
And wait Carlino to exonerate me."

Then I beheld a thousand faces, made  
Purple with cold; whence o'er me comes a shudder,  
And evermore will come, at frozen ponds.

And while we were advancing tow'rds the middle,  
Where everything of weight unites together,  
And I was shivering in the eternal shade,

Whether 'twere will, or destiny, or chance,  
I know not; but in walking 'mong the heads  
I struck my foot hard in the face of one.

Weeping he growled; "Why dost thou trample me?  
Unless thou comest to increase the vengence  
Of Montaperti, why does thou molest me?"

And I:"My Master, now wait here for me,  
That I through him may issue from a doubt;  
Then thou mayst hurry me, as thou shalt wish."

The Leader stopped; and to that one I said  
Who was blaspheming vehemently still:  
"Who art thou, that thus reprehendest others?"

"Now who art thou, that goest through Antenora  
Smiting," replied he, " other people's cheeks,  
So that, if thou wert living, 'twere too much?"

" Living I am, and dear to thee it may be,"  
Was my response, ' if thou demandest fame,  
That 'mid the other notes thy name I place."

And he to me: " For the reverse I long;  
Take thyself hence, and give me no more trouble;  
For ill thou knowest to flatter in this hollow."

Then by the scalp behind I seized upon him,  
And said: " It must needs be thou name thyself,  
Or not a hair remain upon thee here."

Whence he to me:"Though thou strip off my hair,  
I will not tell thee who I am, nor show thee,  
If on my head a thousand times thou fall."

I had his hair in hand already twisted,  
And more than one shock of it had pulled out,  
He barking, with his eyes held firmly down,

When cried another:"What doth ail thee, Bocca?  
Is't not enough to clatter with thy jaws,  
But thou must bark ? what devil touches thee?"

"Now," said I,"I care not to have thee speak,  
Accursed traitor; for unto thy shame  
I will report of thee veracious news."

"Begone," replied he,"and tell what thou wilt,  
But be not silent, if thou issue hence,  
Of him who had just now his tongue so prompt;

He weepeth here the silver of the French;  
'I saw,' thus canst thou phrase it, ' him of Duera  
There where the sinners stand out in the cold.'

If thou shouldst questioned be who else was there,  
Thou hast beside thee him of Beccaria,  
Of whom the gorget Florence slit asunder;

Gianni del Soldanier, I think, may be  
Yonder with Ganellon, and Tebaldello  
Who oped Faenza when the people slep

Already we had gone away from him,  
When I beheld two frozen in one hole,  
So that one head a hood was to the other;

And even as bread through hunger is devoured,  
The uppermost on the other set his teeth,  
There where the brain is to the nape united.

Not in another fashion Tydeus gnawed  
The temples of Menalippus in disdain,  
Than that one di-l the skull and the other things.

"O thou, who showest by such bestial sign  
Thy hatred against him whom thou art eating,  
Tell me the wherefore," said I,"with this compact, us

That if thou rightfully of him complain,  
In knowing who ye are, and his transgression,  
I in the world above repay thee for it,

If that wherewith I speak be not dried up."

CANTO 33

His mouth uplifted from his grim repast,  
That sinner, wiping it upon the hair  
Of the same head that he behind had wasted.

Then he began:"Thou wilt that I renew  
The desperate grief, which wrings my heart already  
To think of only, ere I speak of it;

But if my words be seed that may bear fruit  
Of infamy to the traitor whom I gnaw,  
Speaking and weeping shalt thou see together.

I know not who thou art, nor by what mode  
Thou hast come down here; but a Florentine  
Thou seemest to me truly, when I hear thee.

Thou hast to know I was Count Ugolino,  
And this one was Ruggieri the Archbishop;  
Now I will tell thee why I am such a neighbour.

That, by effect of his malicious thoughts  
Trusting in him I was made prisoner,  
And after put to death, I need not say;

But ne'ertheless what thou canst not have heard,  
That is to say, how cruel was my death,  
Hear shalt thou, and shalt know if he has wronged me.

A narrow perforation in the mew,  
Which bears because of me the title of Famine,  
And in which others still must be locked up,

Had shown me through its opening many moons  
Already, when I dreamed the evil dream  
Which of the future rent for me the veil.

This one appeared to me as lord and master,  
Hunting the wolf and whelps upon the mountain  
For which the Pisans cannot Lucca see.

With sleuth-hounds gaunt, and eager, and well trained,  
Gualandi with Sismondi and Lanfranchi  
He had sent out before him to the front

After brief course seemed unto me forespent  
The father and the sons, and with sharp tushes  
It seemed to me I saw their flanks ripped open.

When I before the morrow was awake,  
Moaning amid their sleep I heard my sons  
Who with me were, and asking after bread.

Cruel indeed art thou, if yet thou grieve not,  
Thinking of what my heart foreboded me,  
And weep'st thou not, what art thou wont to weep at?

They were awake now, and the hour drew nigh  
At which our food used to be brought to us,  
And through his dream was each one apprehensive;

And I heard locking up the under door  
Of the horrible tower; whereat without a word  
I gazed into the faces of my sons.

I wept not, I within so turned to stone;  
They wept; and darling little Anselm mine  
Said:'Thou dost gaze so, father, what doth ail thee?'

Still not a tear I shed, nor answer made  
All of that day, nor yet the night thereafter,  
Until another sun rose on the world.

As now a little glimmer made its way  
Into the dolorous prison, and I saw  
Upon four faces my own very aspect

Both of my hands in agony I bit,  
And, thinking that I did it from desire  
Of eating, on a sudden they uprose,

And said they:'Father, much less pain 'twill give us  
If thou do eat of us; thyself didst clothe us  
With this poor flesh, and do thou strip it off.'

I calmed me then, not to make them more sad.  
That day we all were silent, and the next.  
Ah! obdurate earth, wherefore didst thou not open?

When we had come unto the fourth day, Gaddo  
Threw himself down outstretched before my feet,  
Saying,'My father, why dost thou not help me?'

And there he died; and, as thou seest me,  
I saw the three fall, one by one, between  
The fifth day and the sixth; whence I betook me,

Already blind,to groping over each,  
And three days called them after they were dead;  
Then hunger did what sorrow could not do."

When he had said this, with his eyes distorted,  
The wretched skull resumed he with his teeth,  
Which, as a dog's, upon the bone were strong.

Ah! Pisa, thou opprobrium of the people  
Of the fair land there where the Si doth sound,  
Since slow to punish thee thy neighbours are,

Let the Capraia and Gorgona move,  
And make a hedge across the mouth of Arno  
That every person in thee it may drown!

For if Count Ugolino had the fame  
Of having in thy castles thee betrayed,  
Thou shouldst not on such cross have put his sons.

Guiltless of any crime, thou modern Thebes!  
Their youth made Uguccione and Brigata,  
And the other two my song doth name above!

We passed still farther onward, where the ice  
Another people ruggedly enswathes,  
Not downward turned, but all of them reversed.

Weeping itself there does not let them weep,  
An(l grief that finds a barrier in the eyes  
Turns itself inward to increase the anguish;

Because the earliest tears a cluster form,  
And, in the manner of a crystal visor,  
Fill all the cup beneath the eyebrow full.

And notwithstanding that, as in a callus,  
Because of cold all sensibility  
Its station had abandoned in my face,

Still it appeared to me I felt some wind;  
Whence I:"My Master, who sets this in motion?  
Is not below here every vapour quenched?"

Whence he to me:"Full soon shalt thou be where  
Thine eye shall answer make to thee of this,  
Seeing the cause which raineth down the blast."

And one of the wretches of the frozen crust  
Cried out to us:"O souls so merciless  
That the last post is given unto you,

Lift from mine eyes the rigid veils, that I  
May vent the sorrow which impregns my heart  
A little, e'er the weeping recongeal."

Whence I to him:"If thou wouldst have me help thee  
Say who thou wast; and if I free thee not,  
May I go to the bottom of the ice."

Then he replied:"I am Friar Alberigo;  
He am I of the fruit of the bad garden,  
Who here a date am getting for my fig."

"O,"said I to him, " now art thou, too, dead?"  
And he to me: " How may my body fare  
Up in the world, no knowledge I possess.

Such an advantage has this Ptolomaea,  
That oftentimes the soul descendeth here  
Sooner than Atropos in motion sets it.

And, that thou mayest more willingly remove  
From off my countenance these glassy tears,  
Know that as soon as any soul betrays

As I have done, his body by a demon  
Is taken from him, who thereafter rules it,  
Until his time has wholly been revolved.

Itself down rushes into such a cistern;  
And still perchance above appears the body  
Of yonder shade, that winters here behind me.

This thou shouldst know, if thou hast just come down;  
It is Ser Branca d' Oria, and many years  
Have passed away since he was thus locked up."

"I think," said I to him,"thou dost deceive me;  
For Branca d' Oria is not dead as yet,  
And eats, and drinks, and sleeps, and puts on clothes."

"In moat above,"said he,"of Malebranche,  
There where is boiling the tenacious pitch,  
As yet had Michel Zanche not arrived,

When this one left a devil in his stead  
In his own body and one near of kin,  
Who made together with him the betrayal.

But hitherward stretch out thy hand forthwith,  
Open mine eyes ;"-and open them I did not,  
And to be rude to him was courtesy.

Ah, Genoese ! ye men at variance  
With every virtue, full of every vice  
Wherefore are ye not scattered from the world

For with the vilest spirit of Romagna  
I found of you one such, who for his deeds  
In soul already in Cocytus bathes,

And still above in body seems alive!

CANTO 34

Vexilla Regis prodeunt Inferni  
Towards us; therefore look in front of thee,"  
My Master said,"if thou discernest him."  
My Master said,"if thou discernest him."

As, when there breathes a heavy fog, or when  
Our hemisphere is darkening into night,  
Appears far off a mill the wind is turning,

Methought that such a building then I saw;  
And, for the wind, I drew myself behind  
My Guide, because there was no other shelter.

Now was I, and with fear in verse I put it,  
There where the shades were wholly covered up,  
And glimmered through like unto straws in glass.

Some prone are Iying, others stand erect,  
This with the head, and that one with the soles;  
Another, bow-like, face to feet inverts.

When in advance so far we had proceeded,  
That it my Master pleased to show to me  
The creature who once had the beauteous semblance-

He from before me moved and made me stop,  
Saying:"Behold Dis, and behold the place  
Where thou with fortitude must arm thyself"

How frozen I became and powerless then,  
Ask it not, Reader, for I write it not,  
Because all language would be insufficient.

I did not die, and I alive remained not;  
Think for thyself now, hast thou aught of wit,  
What I became, being of both deprived.

The Emperor of the kingdom dolorous  
From his mid-breast forth issued from the ice,  
And better with a giant I compare

Than do the giants with those arms of his;  
Consider now how great must be that whole,  
Which unto such a part conforms itself.

Were he as fair once, as he now is foul,  
And lifted up his brow against his Maker,  
Well may proceed from him all tribulation.

O, what a marvel it appeared to me,  
When I beheld three faces on his head!  
The one in front, and that vermilion was;

Two were the others, that were joined with this  
Above the middle part of either shoulder,  
And they were joined together at the crest;

And the right-hand one seemed 'twixt white and yellow  
The left was such to look upon as those  
Who come from where the Nile falls valley-ward.

Underneath each came forth two mighty wings,  
Such as befitting were so great a bird;  
Sails of the sea I never saw so large.

No feathers had they, but as of a bat  
Their fashion was; and he was waving them,  
So that three winds proceeded forth therefrom.

Thereby Cocytus wholly was congealed.  
With six eyes did he weep, and down three chins  
Trickled the tear-drops and the bloody drivel.

At every mouth he with his teeth was crunching  
A sinner, in the manner of a brake,  
So that he three of them tormented thus.

To him in front the biting was as naught  
Unto the clawing, for sometimes the spine  
Utterly stripped of all the skin remained.

"That soul up there which has the greatest pain,"  
The Master said, " is Judas Iscariot;  
With head inside, he plies his legs without.

Of the two others, who head downward are,  
The one who hangs from the black jowl is Brutus;  
See how he writhes himself, and speaks no word.

And the other, who so stalwart seems, is Cassius.  
But night is reascending, and 'tis time  
That we depart, for we have seen the whole."

As seemed him good, I clasped him round the neck,  
And he the vantage seized of time and place,  
And when the wings were opened wide apart,

He laid fast hold upon the shaggy sides;  
From fell to fell descended downward then  
Between the thick hair and the frozen crust.

When we were come to where the thigh revolves  
Exactly on the thickness of the haunch,  
The Guide. with labour and with hard-drawn breath.

Turned round his head where he had had his legs,  
And grappled to the hair, as one who mounts,  
So that to Hell I thought we were returning.

"Keep fast thy hold, for by such stairs as these,"  
The Master said, panting as one fatigued,  
"Must we perforce depart from so much evil."

Then through the opening of a rock he issued,  
And down upon the margin seated me;  
Then tow'rds me he outstretched his wary step.

I lifted up mine eyes and thought to see  
Lucifer in the same way I had left him;  
And I beheld him upward hold his legs.

And if I then became disquieted,  
Let stolid people think who do not see  
What the point is beyond which I had passed.

"Rise up,"the Master said,"upon thy feet;  
The way is long, and difficult the road,  
And now the sun to middle-tierce returns."

It was not any palace corridor  
l here where we were, but dungeon natural,  
With floor uneven and unease of light.

"Ere from the abyss I tear myself away,  
My Master," said I when I had arisen?  
"To draw me from an error speak a little;

Where is the ice ?"and how is this one fixed  
Thus upside down? and how in such short time  
From eve to morn has the sun made his transit?"

And he to me:"Thou still imaginest  
Thou art beyond the centre, where I grasped  
The hair of the fell worm, who mines the world.

That side thou wast, so long as I descended;  
When round I turned me, thou didst pass the point  
To which things heavy draw from every side,

And now beneath the hemisphere art come  
Opposite that which overhangs the vast  
Dry-land, and 'neath whose cope was put to death

The Man who without sin was born and lived.  
Thou hast thy feet upon the little sphere  
Which makes the other face of the Judecca

Here it is morn when it is evening there;  
And he who with his hair a stairway made us  
Still fixed remaineth as he was before.

Upon this side he fell down out of heaven;  
And all the land, that whilom here emerged,  
For fear of him made of the sea a veil,

And came to our hemisphere; and peradventure  
To flee from him, what on this side appears  
Left the place vacant here, and back recoiled"

A place there is below, from Beelzebub  
As far receding as the tomb extends,  
Which not by sight is known, but by the sound

Of a small rivulet, that there descendeth  
Through chasm within the stone, which it has gnawed  
With course that winds about and slightly falls.

The Guide and I into that hidden road  
Now entered, to return to the bright world;  
And without care of having any rest

We mounted up, the first and I the second,  
Till I beheld through a round aperture  
Some of the beauteous things that Heaven doth bear;

Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars.

TRANSLATOR'S NOTES

The Divine Comedy._The Vita Nuova of Dante closes with these  
words: "After ths connet there appeared to me a wonderful vision,  
in which I beheld things that made me propose to say no more of  
this blessed one, until I shall be able to say no more of this  
blessed one, until I shall be able to treat of her more worthily.  
And to attain thereunto, truly I strive with all my power, as she  
knoweth. So that if ti shall be the pleasure of Him, through  
whom all things live, that my life continue somewhat longer, I  
hope to say of her what never yet was said of any woman. And  
then may it please Him, w3ho is the Sire of courtesy, that my  
soul may depart to look upon the glory of its Lady, that is to  
say, of the blessed Beatrice, who in glories gazes into the fave  
of him, qui est per oimnia saecula benedictus."

In these line we have the earliest glimpse of the Divine Comedy,  
as it rose in the author's mind.

Whoever has read the Vita Nuova will remember the stress which  
Dante lays upon the mystic numbers Nine and Three; his first  
meeting with Beatrice at the beginning of her ninth year, and the  
end of his; his nine days' illness, and the thought of her death  
which came to him on the ninth day; her death on the ninth day of  
the ninth month,"computing by the Syrian method," and in that  
year of our Lord "when the perfect number ten was nine times  
completed in that century" which was the thirteenth. Moreover, he  
says the number nine was friendly to her, because the nine  
heavens were in conjunction at her birth; and that she was  
herself the number nine, "that is, a miracle whose root is the  
wonderful Trinity."

Followin out this idea, we find the Divine Comedy written in  
terza rima, or threefold rhyme, divided into three parts, and  
each part again subdivided in its structure into three. The  
whole number of cantos is one hundred, the perfect number ten  
multiplied into itself; but if we count the first canto of the  
Inferno as a Prelude, which it really is, each part will consist  
of thirty-three cantos, making ninety-nine in all; and so the  
favorite mystic numbers reappear.

The three divisions of the Inferno are minutely described and  
explained by Dante in Canto. They are separated from each other  
by great spaces in the infernal abyss. The sin punished in them  
are,-I. Incontinence. II. Malice. III. Bestiality.

I. Incontinence: 1. The Wanton. 2. The Gluttonous. 3. The  
Avaricious and Prodigal. 4. The Irascible and the Sullen.

II. Malice: 1. The Vilent against their neighbor, in person or  
property. 2. The Vi0lent against themselves, in person or  
property. 3. The Violent against God, or against Nature, the  
daughter of God, or against Art, the daughter of Nature.

III. Bestiality: first subdivision: 1. Seducers. 2. Flatterers.  
3\. Simoniacs. 4. Soothsayers. 5. Barrators. 6. Hypocrites. 7.  
Thieves. 8 Evil counsellors. 9. Schismatics. 10. Falsifiers.

Second subdivison: 1. Traitors to their kindred. 2. Traitors to  
their country. 3 Traitors to their friends. 4. Traitors to their  
lords and benefactors.

The Divine Comedy is not strictly an allegorical poem in the  
sense in which the Faerie Queene is; and yet it is full of  
allegorical symbols and figurative meanings. In a letter to Can  
Grande Della Scala, Dante writes: "It is to be remarked, that the  
sense of this work is not simple, but on the contrary one may say  
manifold. For one sense is that which is derived fromm the  
letter, and another is that which is derived from the things  
signified by the letter. The first is called literal, the second  
allegorical or moral. . . . The subject, then, of the whole work,  
taken literally, is the conditions of souls after death, simply  
considered. For on this and around this the whole action of the  
work turns. But if the work be taken allegorically, the subject  
is man, how by actions of merit or demerit, though freedom of the  
will, be justly deserves reward or punishment."

It may not be amiss here to refer to what are sometimes called  
the sources of the Divine Comedy. Formost among them must be  
placed the Eleventh Book of Odyssey, and the Sixth of the Aeneid;  
and to the latter Dante seems to point significantly in choosing  
Virgil for his Guide, his Master, his Author, from whom he took  
"the beautiful style that did him honor."

Next to these may be memtioned Cicero's Vision of Scipio, of  
which Chaucer says.-

"Chapiters seven it had, of Heaven, and Hell,  
And Earthe, and soules that therein do dwell."

Then follow the popular legends which were current in Dante's  
age; and age when the end of all things was thought to be near at  
hand, and wonders of the invisible world had laid fast hold on  
the imaginations of men. Prominent among these is the "Vision of  
Frate Alberico," who calls himself "the humblest servant of the  
servants of the Lord"; and who

"Saw in dreame at point-devyse  
Heaven, Earthe, hel and Paradyse."

This vision was written in Latin in the latter half of the  
twelfth century, and contains a description of hell, Purgatory,  
and Paradise, with its Seven heavens. It is for the most part a  
tedious talke, and bears evident marks of having been written by  
a friar of some monastery, when the afternoon sum was shining  
into his sleepy eyes. He seems, however, to have looked upon his  
own work with a not unfavorable opinion; for he concludes the  
Epistle Introductory with the words of St. John: "If amy man  
shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues  
that are written in this book; and if amy man shall take away  
from these things, God shall take away his part from the good  
things written in this book."

It is not impossible that Dante may have taken a few hints also  
from the Tesoretto of his teacher, Ser Brunetto Latini. See  
Canto XV. Note 30.

See upon this subject, Cancellieri, Osservasioni Sopra  
l'Originalita di Dante;-Wright, St. Patrick's Purgatory, and  
Essay on the Legens of Purgatory, Hell, and Paradise, current  
during the Middle Ages;-Ozanam, Dante et la Philosophie  
Catholique au Treizieme Siecle;-Labitte, La Divine Comedie avant  
Dante, published as an Introduction to the translation of  
Brizeux;- and Delepierre, Le Livre des Visions, ou l'Enfer et le  
Cie decrits par ceux qui les ont vus. Se also the Illustrations  
at the end of volume ten.

Canto 1

1\. The action of the poem begins on Good Friday of the year 1300,  
at which time Dante, who was born in 1265, had reached the middle  
of the Scriptual threescore years and ten. It ends on the first  
Sunday after Easter, making in all ten days.

2\. The dark forest of human life, with its passions, vices, and  
perplexities of all kinds; politically the state of Florence with  
its fractions Guelf and Ghibelline. Dante, Convito, IV. 25, says:  
"Thus the adolescent, who enters into the erroneous forest of  
this life, would not know how to keep the right way if he were  
not guided by his elders."

Brunetto Latini, Tesoretto, II. 75:

"Pensando a capo chino  
Perdei il gran cammino,  
E tenni alla traversa  
D'una selva diversa."

Spenser, Faerie Queene, Iv. ii. 45: -

"Seeking adventures in the salvage wood."

13\. Bunyan, in his Pilrim's Progress, which is a kind of Divine  
Comedy in prose, says: "I beheld then that they all went on till  
they came to the foot of the hill Difficulty... But the narrow  
way lay right up the hill, and the name of the going up the side  
of the hill is called Difficulty... They went then till they  
came to the Delectable Mountains, which mountains belong to the  
Lord of that hill of which we have spoken before."

14\. Bunyan, Pilgrim's Progress: -  
"But now in this valley of Humiliation poor Christian was hard  
put to it; for he had gone but a little way before he spied a  
foul fiend coming over the field to meet him; his name is  
Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in  
his mind whether to go back or stand his ground. ...Now at the  
end of this valley was another, called the valley of the Shadow  
of Death; and Christian must needs go through it, because the way  
to the Celestial City lay through the midst of it."

17\. The sun, with all its symbolical meanings. This is the  
morning of Good Friday.

In the Ptolemaic system the sun was one of the planets.

20\. The deep mountain tarn of his heart, dark with its own depth,  
and the shadows hanging over it.

27\. Jeremiah ii. 6: "That led us through the wilderness, through a  
land of deserts and of pits, through a land of drought, and of  
the shadow of death, through a land that no man passed through,  
and where no man dwelt."

In his note upon this passage Mr. Wright quotes Spenser's lines,  
Faerie Queene, I. v. 31, -

"there creature never passed  
That back returned without heavenly grace."

30\. Climbing the hillside slowly, so that he rests longest on the  
foot that is lowest.

31\. Jeremiah v. 6: "Wherefore a lion out of the forest shall slay  
them, a wolf of the evening shall spoil them, a leopard shall  
watch over their cities: every one that goeth out thence shall be  
torn in pieces."

32\. Wordly Pleasure; and politically Florence, with its factions  
of Bianchi and Neri.

36\. Piu volte volto. Dante delights in a play upon words as much  
as Shakespeare.

38\. The stars of Aries. Some philosophers and fathers think the  
world was created in Spring.

45\. Ambition; and politically the royal house of France.

48\. Some editions read temesse, others tremesse.

49\. Avarice; and politically the Court of Rome, or temporal power  
of the Popes.

60\. Dante as a Ghibelline and Imperialist is in opposition to the  
Guelfs, Pope Boniface VIII., and the King of France, Philip the  
Fair, and is banished from Florence, out of the sunshine, and  
into "the dry wind that blows from dolorous poverty."

Cato speaks of the "silent moon" in De Re Rustica, XXIV., Evehito  
luna silenti; and XL., Vites inseri luna silenti. Also Pliny,  
XVI. 39, has Silens luna; and Milton, in Samson Agonistes,  
"Silent as the moon."

63\. The long neglect of classic studies in Italy before Dante's  
time.

70\. Born under Julius Caesar, but too late to grow up to manhood  
during his Imperial reign. He florished later under Augustus.

79\. In this passage Dante but expresses the universal veneration  
felt for Virgil during the Middle Ages, and especially in Italy.  
Petrarch's copy of Virgil is still preserved in the Ambrosian  
Library at Milan; and at the beginning of it he has recorded in a  
Latin note the time of his first meeting with Laura, and the date  
of her death, which, he says, "I write in this book, rather than  
elsewhere, because it comes often under my eye."

In the popular imagination Virgil became a mythical personage and  
a mighty magician. See the story of Virgilius in Thom's Early  
Prose Romances, II. Dante selects him for his guide, as  
symbolizing human science or Philosophy. "I say and affirm," he  
remarks, Convito, V. 16, "that the lady with whom I became  
enamored after my first love was the most beautiful and modest  
daughter of the Emperor of the Universe, to whom Pythagoras gave  
the name of Philosophy."

87\. Dante seems to have been already conscious of the fame which  
his Vita Nuova and Canzoni had given him.

101\. The greyhound is Can Grande della Scala, Lord of Verona,  
Imperial Vicar, Ghibelline, and friend of Dante. Verona is  
between Feltro in the Marca Trivigiana, and Montefeltro in  
Romagna. Boccaccio, Decameron, I. 7, speaks of him as "one of the  
most notable and magnificant lords that had been known in Italy,  
since the Emperor Frederick the Second." To him Dante dedicated  
the Paradiso. Some commentators think the Veltro is not Can  
Grande, but Ugguccione della Faggiola. See Troya, Del Veltro  
Allegorico di Dante.

106\. The plains of Italy, in contradistinction to the mountains;  
the humilemque Italiam of Virgil, AEneid, III. 522: "And now  
the stars being chased away, blushing Aurora appeared, when far  
off we espy the hills obscure, and lowly Italy."

116\. I give preference to the reading, Vedrai gli antichi spiriti  
dolenti.

122\. Beatrice.

Canto 2

1\. The evening of Good Friday. Dante, Convito III. 2, says:  
"Man is called by philosophers the divine animal." Chaucer's  
Assemble of Foules:-

The daie gan failen, and the darke night  
That reveth bestes from hir businesse  
Berafte me by boke for lacke of light."

Mr. Ruskin, Modern Painters, III. 240, speaking of Dante's use of  
the word " bruno," says:-

"In describing a simple twilight-not a Hades twilight, but an  
ordinarily fair evening `brown' air took the animals away from  
their fatigues;-the waves under Charon's boat are `brown' (Inf.  
iii. 117); and Lethe, which is perfectly clear and yet dark, as  
with oblivion, is `bruna-bruna', `brown, exceeding brown.' Now,  
clearly in all these cases no warmth is meant to be mingled in  
the color. Dante had never seen one of our bog-streams, with its  
porter-colored foam; and there can be no doubt that, in calling  
Lethe brown, he means tht it was dark slategray, inclining to  
black; as, for instance, our clear Cumberland lakes, which,  
looked straight down upon where they are deep, seem to be lakes  
of ink. I am sure this is the color he means; because no clear  
stream or lake on the Continent ever looks brown, but blue or  
green, and Dante, by merely taking away the pleasant color, would  
get at once to this idea of grave clear gray. So, when he was  
talking of twilight, his eye for color was far too good to let  
him call it brown in our sense. Twilight is not brown, but  
purple, golden, or dark gray; and this last was what Dante meant.  
Farther, I find that this negation color is always the means by  
which Dante subdues his tones. Thus the fatal inscription on the  
Hades gate is written in `obscure color', and the air which  
torments the passionate spirts is `aer nero', black air (Inf. v.  
51), called presently afterwards (line 81) malignant air, just as  
the gray cliffs are called malignant cliffs."

13\. Aeneas, founder of the Roman Empire. Virgil, Aenid, B. VI.

24\. "That is," says Boccaccio, Comento, "St. Peter the Apostle,  
called the greater on account of his papal dignity, and to  
distinguish him from many other holy men of the same name."

28\. St. Paul. Acts, ix. 15: "He is a chosen vessel unto me."  
Also, 2 Corinthians, xii. 3, 4: "And I knew such a man, whether  
in the body, or out of the body, I cannot tell; God knoweth; how  
that he was caught up into Paradise, and heard unspeakable words,  
which it is not lawful for a man to utter."

42\. Shakespear, Macbeth, IV. i:

"The flighty purpose never is o'ertook,  
Unless the deed go with it."

52\. Suspended in Limbo; neither in pain nor in glory.

55\. Brighter than the star; than "that star which is brightest,"  
comments Boccaccio. Others say the Sun, and refer to Dante's  
Canzone, beginning:

"The star of beauty which doth measure time,  
The lady seems, who has enamored me,  
Placed in the heaven of Love."

56\. Shakespeare, King Lear, V. 3:-

"Her voice was ever soft,  
Gentle, and low; an excellent thing in woman."

67\. This passage will recall Minerva transmitting the message of  
Juno to Achilles, Iliad, II.: "Go thou forthwith to the army of  
the Achaeans, and hesitate not, but restrain each man with thy  
persuasive words, nor suffer them to drag to the sea their  
double-oared ships. "

70\. Beatrice Portinari, Dante's first love, the inspiration of  
his song and in his mind the symbol of the Divine. He says of her  
in the Vita Nuova:-

"This most gentle lady, of whom there has been discourse in what  
precedes, reached such favour among the people, that when she  
passed along the way persons ran to see her, which gave me  
wonderful delight. And when she was near any one, such modesty  
took possession of his heart, that he did not dare to raise his  
eyes or to return her salutation; and to this, should any one  
doubt it, many, as having experienced it, could bear witness for  
me. She, crowned and clothed with humility, took her way,  
displaying no pride in that which she saw and heard. Many, when  
she had passed said, `This is not a woman, rather is she one of  
the most beautiful angels of heaven.' Others said, `She is a  
miracle. Blessed be the Lord who can perform such a marvel.' I  
say, that she showed herself so gentle and so full of all  
beauties, that those who looked on her felt within themselves a  
pure and sweet delight, such as they could not tell in  
words."-C.E. Norton, The New Life, 51, 52.

78\. The heaven of the moon, which contains or encircles the  
earth.

84\. The ampler circles of Paradise.

94\. Divine Mercy.

97\. St Lucia, emblem of enlightening Grace.

102\. Rachel, emblem of Divine Contemplation. See Par. XXXII. 9.  
108\. Beside that flood, where ocean has no vaunt; "That is," says  
Boccacio, Comento, "the sea cannot boast of being more impetuous  
or more dangerous than that."

127\. This simile has been imitated by Chaucer, Spenser, and many  
more. Jeremy Taylor says:-

"So have I seen the sun kiss the frozen earth, which was bound up  
with the images of death, and the colder breath of the north; and  
then the waters break from their enclosures, and melt with joy,  
and run in useful channels; and the flies do rise again from  
their little graves in walls, and dance awhile in the air, to  
tell that there is joy within, and that the great mother of  
creatures will open the stock of her new refreshment, become  
useful to mankind, and sing praises to her Redeemer."

Rossetti, Spirito Antipapale del Secolo di Dante, translated by  
Miss Ward, II. 216, makes this political application of the  
lines: "The Florentines, called Sons of Flora, are compared to  
flowers; and Dante calls the two parties who divided the city  
white and black flowers, and himself white-flower,-the name by  
which he was called by many. Now he makes use of a very abstruse  
comparison, to express how he became, from a Guelph of Black, a  
Ghibelline or White. He describes himself as a flower, first bent  
and closed by the night frosts, and then blanched or whitened by  
the sun (the symbol of reason), which opens its leaves; and what  
produces the effect of the sun on him is a speech of Virgil's,  
persuading him to follow his guidance."

Canto 3

1\. This canto begins with a repetition of sounds like the tolling  
of a funeral bell: dolente...dolore! Ruskin, Modern Painters,  
III. 215, speaking of the Inferno, says:-

"Milton's effort, in all that he tells us of his Inferno, is to  
make it indefinite; Dante's, to make it definite. Both, indeed,  
describe it as entered through gates; but, within the gate, all  
is wild and fenceless with Milton, having indeed its four rivers,  
\- the last vestige of the mediaeval tradition,-but rivers  
which flow through a waste of mountain and moorland, and by `many  
a frozen, many a fiery Alp.' But Dante's Inferno is accurately  
separated into circles drawn with well-pointed compasses; mapped  
and properly surveyed in every direction, trenched in a  
thoroughly good style of engineering from depth to depth, and  
divided, in the ` accurate middle' (dritto mezzo) of its deeper  
abyss, into a concentric series of ten moats and embankments,  
like those about a castle, with bridges from each embankment to  
the next; precisely in the manner of those bridges over Hiddekel  
and Euphrates, which Mr. Macauley thinks so innocently designed,  
apparently not aware that he is also laughing at Dante. These  
larger fosses are of rock, and the bridges also; but as he goes  
further into detail, Dante tells us a various minor fosses and  
embankments, in which he anxiously points out to us not only the  
formality, but the neatness and perfectness, of the stonework.  
For instance, in describing the river Phlegethon, he tells us  
that it was `paved with stone at the bottom, and at the sides,  
and over the edges of the sides, ' just as the water is at the  
baths of Bulicame; and for fear we should think this embankment  
at all larger than it really was, Dante adds, carefully, that it  
was made just like the embankments of Ghent or Bruges against the  
sea, or those in Lombardy which bank the Brenta, only `not so  
high, nor so wide,' as any of these. And besides the trenches, we  
have two well-built castles; one like Ecbatana, with seven  
circuits of wall (and surrounded by a fair stream), wherein the  
great poets and sages of antiquity live; and another, a great  
fortified city with walls of iron, red-hot, and a deep fosse  
round it, and full of `grave citizens, '-the city of Dis.

"Now, whether this be in what we moderns call `good taste,' or  
not, I do not mean just now to inquire, - Dante having nothing  
to do with taste, but with the facts of what he had seen; only,  
so far as the imaginative faculty of the two poets is concerned,  
note that Milton's vagueness is not the sign of imagination, but  
of its absence, so far as it is significative in the matter. For  
it does not follow, because Milton did not map out his Inferno as  
Dante did, that he could not have done so if he had chosen; only  
it was the easier and less imaginative process to leave it vague  
than to define it. Imagination is always the seeing and asserting  
faculty; that which obscures or conceals may be judgment, or  
feeling, but not invention. The invention, whether good or bad,  
is in the accurate engineering, not in the fog and uncertainty."

18 . Aristotle says: "The good of the intellect is the highest  
beatitude"; and Dante in the Convito: "The True is the good of  
the intellect. " In other words, the knowledge of God is  
intellectual good. "It is a most just punishment," says St.  
Augustine, "that man should lose that freedom which man could not  
use, yet had power to keep, if he would, and that he who had  
knowledge to do what was right, and did not do it, should be  
deprived of the knowledge of what was right; and that he who  
would not do righteously, when he had the power, should lose the  
power to do it when he had the will. "

22\. The description given of the Mouth of Hell by Frate Alberico,  
Visio, 9, is in the grotesque spirit of the Mediaeval Mysteries.  
"After all these things, I was led to the Tartarean Regions, and  
to the mouth of the Internal Pit, which seemed like unto a well;  
regions full of horrid darkness, of fetid exhalations, of shrieks  
and loud howlings. Near this Hell there was a Worm of immeasurable  
size, bound with a huge chain, one end of which seemed to be  
fastened in Hell. Before the mouth of this Hell there stood a great  
multitude of souls, which he absorbed at once, as if they were  
flies; so that, drawing in his breath, he swallowed them all together;  
then, breathing, exhaled them all on fire, like sparks."

36 . The reader will here be reminded of Bunyan's town of  
Fairspeech. "Christian. Pray who are you kindred there, if a man  
may be so bold." "By-ends. Almost the whole town; and in  
particular my Lord Turnabout, my Lord Timeserver, my Lord  
Fairspeech, from whose ancestors that town first took its name;  
also Mr. Smoothman, Mr. Facing- both-ways, Mr. Any-thing,  
-and the parson of our parish, Mr. Two-tongues, was my  
mother's own brother by father's side...  
"There Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow Hopeful,  
saying, `It runs in my mind that this is one By- ends of Fair-  
speech; and if it be he, we have as very a knave in our company  
as dwelleth in all these parts.'"

42 . Many commentators and translators interpret alcuna in its  
usual signification of some: "For some glory the damned would  
have from them." This would be a reason why these pusillanimous  
ghosts should not be sent into the profounder abyss, but not reason  
why they should not be received there. This is strengthened by what  
comes afterwards, l. 63. These souls were "hateful to God, and to  
his enemies." They were not good enough for Heaven, nor bad  
enough for Hell. "So then, because thou art lukewarm, and neither  
cold nor hot, I will spew thee out of my mouth." Revelation iii. 16.  
Macchiavelli represents this scorn of inefficient mediocrity  
in an epigram on Peter Soderini:-

"The night that Peter Soderini died  
He was at the mouth of Hell himself presented.  
`What, you come into Hell? poor ghost demented,  
Go to the Babies' Limbo!' Pluto cried."

The same idea is intensified in the old ballad of Carle of Kelly-  
Burn Brees, Cromek, p. 37:-She's nae fit for heaven, an' she'll  
ruin a' hell."

52 . This restless flag is an emblem of the shifting and unstable  
minds of its followers.

59 . Generally supposed to be Pope Celestine V. whose great  
refusal, or abdication, of the papal office is thus described by  
Boccaccio  
in his Comento:- Being a simple man of a holy life, living as a hermit  
in the  
mountains of Morrone in Abruzzo, above Selmona, he was elected  
Pope in Perugia after the death of Pope Niccola d'Ascoli; and his  
name being Peter, he was called Celestine. Considering his  
simplicity, Cardinal Messer Benedetto Gatano, a very cunning man,  
of great courage and desirous of being Pope, managing astutely,  
began to show him that he held this high office much to the  
prejudice of his own soul, inasmuch as he did not feel himself  
competent for it; - others pretend that he contrived with some  
private servants of his to have voices heard in the chamber of  
the aforesaid Pope, which, as if they were voices of angels sent  
from heaven, said, `Resign, Celestine! Resign, Celestine!'-moved  
by which, and being an idiotic man, he took counsel with Messer  
Benedetto aforesaid, as to the best method of resigning."  
Celestine having relinquished the papal office, this "Messer  
Benedetto aforesaid" was elected Pope, under the title of  
Boniface VIII. His greatest misfortune was that he had Dante for  
an adversary. Gower gives this legend of Pope Celestine in his  
Confessio Amantis, Book II., as an example of "the vice of  
supplantacion." He says: -

"This clerk, when he hath herd the form,  
How he the pope shuld enform,  
Toke of the cardinal his leve  
And goth him home, till it was eve.  
And prively the trompe he hadde  
Til that the pope was abedde.  
And midnight when he knewe  
The pope slepte, than he blewe  
Within his trompe through the wall  
And tolde in what manner he shall  
His papacie leve, and take  
His first estate."

Milman, Hist. Latin Christianity, VI. 194, speaks thus upon the  
subject:-

"The abdication of Celestine V. was an event unprecedented in the  
annals of the Church, and jarred harshly against some of the  
first principle of the Papal authority. It was a confession of  
common humanity, of weakness below the ordinary standard of men  
in him whom the Conclave, with more than usual certitude, as  
guided by the special interposition of the Holy Ghost, had raised  
to the spiritual throne of the world. The Conclave had been, as  
it seemed, either under an illusion as to this declared  
manifestation of the Holy Spirit, or had been permitted to  
deceive itself. Nor was there less incongruity in a Pope, whose  
office invested him in something at least approaching to  
infallibility, acknowledging before the world his utter  
incapacity, his undeniable fallibility. That idea, formed out of  
many conflicting conceptions, yet forcibly harmonized by long,  
traditionary reverence, of unerring wisdom, oracular truth,  
authority which it was sinful to question or limit, strangely  
disturbed and confused, not as before by too overweening  
ambition, or even awful yet still unacknowledged crime, but by  
avowed weakness, bordering on imbecility. His profound piety  
hardly reconciled the confusion. A saint after all made but a bad  
Pope. "It was viewed, in his own time, in a different light by  
different minds. The monkish writers held it up as the most noble  
example of monastic, of Christian perfection. Admirable as was  
his election, his abdication was even more to be admired. It was  
an example of humility stupendous to all, imitable by few. The  
divine approval was said to be shown by a miracle which followed  
directly on his resignation; but the scorn of man has been  
expressed by the undying verse of Dante, who condemned him who  
was guilty of the baseness of the `great refusal' to that circle  
of hell where are those disdained alike by mercy and justice, on  
whom the poet will not condescend to look. This sentence, so  
accordant with the stirring and passionate soul of the great  
Florentine, has been feebly counteracted, if counteracted, by the  
praise of Petrarch in his declamation on the beauty of a solitary  
life, for which the lyrist a somewhat hollow and poetic  
admiration. Assuredly there was no magnanimity contemptuous of  
the Papal greatness in the abdication of Celestine; it was the  
weariness, the conscious inefficiency, the regret of a man  
suddenly wrenched away from all his habits, pursuits, and  
avocations, and unnaturally compelled or tempted to assume an  
uncongenial dignity. It was the cry of passionate feebleness to  
be released from an insupportable burden. Compassion is the  
highest emotion of sympathy which it would have desired or could  
deserve."

75 . Spencer's "misty dampe of misconceyving night."

82 . Virgil, Aeneid, VI., Davidson's translation:-

"A grim ferryman guards these floods and rivers, Charon, of  
frightful slovenliness; on whose chin a load of gray hair  
neglected lies; his eyes are flame: his vestments hang from his  
shoulders by a knot, with filth overgrown. Himself thrusts on the  
barge with a pole, and tends the sails, and wafts over the bodies  
in his iron- colored boat, now in years: but the god is of fresh  
and green old age. Hither the whole tribe in swarms come pouring  
to the banks, matrons and men, the souls of magnanimous heroes  
who had gone through life, boys and unmarried maids, and young  
men who had been stretched on the funeral pile before the eyes of  
their parents; as numerous as withered leaves fall in the woods  
with the first cold of autumn, or as numerous as birds flock to  
the land from deep ocean, when the chilling year drives them  
beyond sea, and sends them to sunny climes. They stood praying to  
cross the flood the first, and were stretching forth their hands  
with fond desire to gain the further bank: but the sullen boatman  
admits sometimes these, sometimes those; while others to a great  
distance removed, he debars from the banks."  
And Shakespeare, Richard III., I. 4: -

"I passed, methought, the melancholy flood  
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,  
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night."

87 . Shakepeare, Measure for Measure, III. I:-

"This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the  
delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In  
thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice; To be imprisoned in the  
viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The  
pendent world; or to be worse than worst Of those that lawless  
and incertain thoughts Imagine howling."

89 . Virgil Aeneid, VI.:"This is the region of Ghosts, of sleep  
and drowsy Night; to waft over the bodies of the living in my Stygian  
boat is not permitted."

93\. The souls that were to be saved assembled at the mouth of the  
Tiber, where they were received by the celestial pilot, or  
ferryman, who transported them to the shores of Purgatory, as  
described in Purg. II.

94 . Many critics, and foremost among them Padre Pompeo Venturi,  
blame Dante for mingling together things Pagan and Christian. But they  
should remember how through all the Middle Ages human thought was  
wrestling with the old traditions; how many Pagan observances  
passed into Christianity in those early days; what reverence  
Dante had for Virgil and the classics; and how many Christian  
nations still preserve some traces of Paganism in the names of  
the stars, the months, and the days. Padre Pompeo should not have  
forgotten that he, though a Christian, bore a Pagan name, which  
perhaps is as evident a brutto miscuglio in a learned Jesuit, as  
any which he has pointed out in Dante. Upon him and other  
commentators of the Divine Poem, a very amusing chapter  
might be written. While the great Comedy is going on  
upon the scene above, with all its pomp and music, these critics  
in the pit keep up such a perpetual wrangling among themselves, as  
seriously to disturb the performance. Biaglioli is the most  
violent of all, particularly against Venturi, whom he calls an  
"infamous dirty  
dog," sozzo can vituperato, an epithet hardly permissible in the  
most heated literary controversy. Whereupon in return Zani de'  
Ferranti calls Biagioli "an inurbane grammarian," and a "most  
ungrateful ingrate."-quel grammatico inurbano...ingrato  
ingratissimo. Any one who is desirous of tracing out the  
presence of Paganism in Christianity will find the subject amply  
discussed by Middleton in his Letter from Rome.

109\. Dryden's Aene,is, B. VI.:-

"His eyes like hollow furnaces on fire."

112 . Homer, Iliad, VI.:"As is the race of leaves, such is that  
of men; some leaves the wind scatters upon the ground, and others the  
budding wood produces, for they come again in the season of  
Spring. So is the race of men, one springs up and the other  
dies."  
See also Note 82 of the canto.  
Mr. Ruskin, Modern Painters, III. 160, says:-

When Dante describes the spirits falling from the bank of Acheron  
`as dead leaves flutter from a bough,' he gives the most perfect  
image possible of their utter lightness, feebleness, passiveness,  
and scattering agony of despair, without, however, for an instant  
losing his own clear perception that these are souls, and those  
are leaves: he makes no confusion of one with the other."  
Shelley in his Ode to the West Wind inverts this image, and  
compares the dead leaves to ghosts:-

"O wild West Wind! thou breath of Autumn's being!  
Thou from whose presence the leaves dead  
Are driven like ghosts, from an enchanter fleeing,  
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,  
Pestilence-stricken mulititudes."

Canto 4

1\. Dante is borne across the river Acheron in his sleep, he does  
not tell us how, and awakes on the brink of "the dolorous valley of  
the abyss." He now enters the First Circle of the Inferno; the  
Limbo of the Unbaptized, the border land, as the name denotes.  
Frate Alberico in {paragraph} 2 of his Vision says, that the  
divine punishments are tempered to extreme youth and old age.  
"Man is first a little child, then grows and reaches adolescence,  
and attains to youthful vigor; and, little by little growing  
weaker, declines into old age; and at every step of life the sum  
of his sins increases. So likewise the little children are  
punished least, and more and more the adolescents and the youths;  
until, their sins decreasing with the long-continued torments,  
punishment also begins to decrease, as if by a kind of old age  
("veluti quadam senectute ")."

10 . Frate Alberico, in {paragraph} 9: "The darkness was so  
dense and impenetrable that it was impossible to see anything there."

28 . Mental, not physical pain; what the French theologians call  
" la peine du dam", the privation of the sight of God.

30\. Virgil, "Aeneid", VI.: "Forthwith are heard voices, loud  
wailings, and weeping ghosts of infants, in the first opening of  
the gate; whom, bereaved of sweet life out of the course of  
nature, and snatched from the breast, a black day cut off, and  
buried in an untimely grave."

53\. The descent of Christ into Limbo. Neither here nor elsewhere  
in the Inferno does Dante mention the name of Christ.

72\. The reader will not fail to observe how Dante makes the word  
"honor", in its various forms, ring and reverberate through these  
lines, - " orrevol, onori, orranza, onrata, onorata"!

86\. Dante puts the sword into the hand of Homer as a symbol of  
his warlike epic, which is a Song of the Sword.

93\. Upon this line Boccaccio, "Comento", says:  
"A proper thing it is to honor every man, but especially those  
who are of one and the same profession, as these were with  
Virgil. "

100\. Another assertion of Dante's consciousness of his own power  
as a poet.

106\. This is the Noble Castle of human wit and learning,  
encircled with its seven scholastic walls, the " Trivium", Logic,  
Grammar,  
Rhetoric, and the "Quadrivium ", Arithmetic, Astronomy, Geometry,  
Music. The fair rivulet is Eloquence, which Dante does not seem  
to consider a very profound matter, as he and Virgil pass over it  
as if it were dry ground.

118 . Of this word "enamel" Mr. Ruskin, "Modern Painters", III.  
227, remarks:

"The first instance I know of its right use, though very probably  
it had been so employed before, is in Dante. The righteous  
spirits of the pre-Christian ages are seen by him, though in the  
Inferno, yet in a place open, luminous and high, walking upon the  
`green enamel.' "I am very sure that Dante did not use this  
phrase as we use it. He knew well what enamel was; and his  
readers, in order to understand him thoroughly, must remember  
what it is,-a vitreous paste, dissolved in water, mixed with  
metallic oxides, to give it the opacity and the color required,  
spread in a moist state on metal, and afterwards hardened by  
fire, so as never to change. And Dante means, in using this  
metaphor of the grass of the Inferno, to mark that it is laid as  
a tempering and cooling substance over the dark, metallic, gloomy  
ground; but yet so hardened by the fire, that it is not any more  
fresh or living grass, but a smooth, silent, lifeless bed of  
eternal green. And we know how " hard" Dante's idea of it was;  
because afterwards, in what is perhaps the most awful passage of  
the whole Inferno, when the three furies rise at the top of the  
burning tower, and, catching sight of Dante, and not being able  
to get at him, shriek wildly for the Gorgon to come up, too, that  
they may turn him into stone, the word " stone" is not hard  
enough for them. Stone might crumble away after it was made, or  
something with life might grow upon it; no, it shall not be  
stone; they will make enamel of him; nothing can grow out of  
that; it is dead forever."

And yet just before, line 111, Dante speaks of this meadow as a  
"meadow of fresh verdure."  
Compare Brunetto's "Tesoretto", XIII.

"Ora va mastro Brunetto  
Per lo cammino stretto,  
Cercando di vedere,  
E toccare, e sapere  
Cio, che gli e destinato.  
E non fui guari andato,  
Ch' i' fui nella diserta,  
Dov' i' non trovai certa  
Ne strada, ne sentiero.  
Deh che paese fero  
Trovai in quelle parti!  
Che s' io sapessi d'arti  
Quivi mi bisognava,  
Che quanto piu mirava,  
Piu mi parea selvaggio.  
Quivi non ha viaggio,  
Quivi non ha persone,  
Quivi non ha magione,  
Non bestia, non uccello,  
Non fiume, non ruscello,  
Non formica, ne mosca,  
Ne cosa, ch' i' conosca.  
E io pensando forte,  
Dottai ben della morte.  
E non e maraviglia;  
Che ben trecento miglia  
Girava d'ogni lato  
Quel paese snagiato.  
Ma si m' assicurai  
Quando mi ricordai  
De sicuro segnale,  
Che contra tutto malev  
Mi da securamento:  
E io presi ardimento,  
Quasi per avventura  
Per una valle scura,  
Tanto, ch' al terzo giorno  
I' mi trovai d'intorno  
Un grande pian giocondo,  
Lo piu gaio del mondo,  
E lo piu dilettoso.  
Ma ricontar non oso  
Cio, ch'io trovai, e vidi,  
Se Dio mi guardi, e guidi.  
Io non sarei creduto  
Di cio, ch' i' ho veduto;  
Ch'i' vidi Imperadori,  
E Re, e gran signori,  
E mastri di scienze,  
Che dittavan sentenze;  
E vidi tante cose,  
Che gia 'n rime, ne 'n prose  
Non le poria ritrare.

128\. In the "Convito", IV. 28, Dante makes Marcia, Cato's wife, a  
symbol of the noble soul: " Per la quale Marzias' intende la  
nobile anima. "

129\. The Saladin of the Crusades. See Gibbon, Chap. LIX. Dante  
also makes mention of him, as worthy of affectionate remembrance, in  
the " Convito", IV. 2. Mr. Cary quotes the following passage from  
Knolle's " History of the Turks", page 57:-

"About this time (1193) died the great Sultan Saladin, the  
greatest terror of the Christians, who, mindful of man's  
fragility and the vanity of worldly honors, commanded at the time  
of his death no solemnity to be used at his burial, but only his  
shirt, in manner of an ensign, made fast unto the point of a  
lance, to be carried before his dead body as an ensign, a plain  
priest going before, and crying aloud unto the people in this  
sort, `Saladin' Conqueror of the East, of all the greatness and  
riches he had in his life, carrieth not with him anything more  
than his shirt. ' A sight worthy so great a king, as wanted  
nothing to his eternal commendation more than the true knowledge  
of his salvation in Christ Jesus. He reigned about sixteen years  
with great honor. " The following story of Saladin is from the  
"Cento Novelle Antiche. "  
Roscoe's "Italian Novelists", I. 18:-

"On another occasion the great Saladin, in the career of victory,  
proclaimed a truce between the Christian armies and his own.  
During this interval he visited the camp and the cities belonging  
to his enemies, with the design, should he approve of the customs  
and manners of the people, of embracing the Christian faith. He  
observed their tables spread with the finest damask coverings  
ready prepared for the feast, and he praised their magnificence.  
On entering the tents of the king of France during a festival, he  
was much pleased with the order and ceremony with which  
everything was conducted, and the courteous manner in which he  
feasted his nobles; but when he approached the residence of the  
poorer class, and perceived them devouring their miserable  
pittance upon the ground, he blamed the want of gratitude which  
permitted so many faithful followers of their chief to fare so  
much worse than the rest of their Christian brethren.  
"Afterwards, several of the Christian leaders returned with the  
Sultan to observe the manners of the Saracens. They appeared much  
shocked on seeing all ranks of people take their meals sitting  
upon the ground. The Sultan led them into a grand pavilion where  
he feasted his court, surrounded with the most beautiful  
tapestries, and rich foot-cloths, on which were wrought large  
embroidered figures of the cross. The Christian chiefs trampled  
them under their feet with the utmost indifference, and even  
rubbed their boots, and spat upon them. "On perceiving this,  
the Sultan turned towards them in the greatest anger, exclaiming:  
`And do you who pretend to preach the cross treat it thus  
ignominiously? Gentlemen, I am shocked at your conduct.  
Am I to suppose from this that the worship of your Deity  
consists only in words, not in actions? Neither your manners nor  
your conduct please me.' And on this he dismissed them,  
breaking off the truce and commencing hostilities more  
warmly than before."

143\. Avicenna, an Arabian physician of Ispahan in the eleventh  
century. Born 980, died 1036.

144\. Avverrhoes, an Arabian scholar of the twelfth century, who  
translated the works of Aristotle, and wrote a commentary upon  
them. He was born in Cordova in 1149, and died in Morocco, about  
1200\. He was the head of the Western School of philosophy, as  
Avicenna was of the Eastern.

Canto 5

1\. In the Second Circle are found the souls of carnal sinners,  
whose punishment

"To be imprisoned in the viewless winds,  
And blown with restless violence round about  
The pendent world."

2\. The circles grow smaller and smaller as they descend.

4\. Minos, the king of Crete, so renowned for justice as to be  
called the Favorite of the Gods, and after death made Supreme  
Judge in the Infernal Regions. Dante furnishes him with a tail,  
thus converting him, after the mediaeval fashion, into a  
Christian demon.

21\. Thou, too, as well as Charon, to whom[*]Virgil has already  
made the same reply, Canto 06. 022.

28\. In Canto 01. 060, the sun is silent; here the light is dumb.

51\. Gower, "Confession Amantis", VIII., gives a similar list "of  
gentil folke that whilom were lovers," seen by him as he lay in a  
swound and listened to the music Of bombarde and of clarionne  
With cornemuse and shalmele."

61\. Queen Dido.

65\. Achilles, being in love with Polyxena, a daughter of Priam,  
went unarmed to the temple of Apollo, where he was put to death by  
Paris. Gower, "Confessio Amantis ", IV., says:-

"For I have herde tell also  
Achilles left his armes so,  
Both of himself and of his men,  
At Troie for Polixenen  
Upon her love when he felle,  
That for no chaunce that befelle  
Among the Grekes or up or down  
He wolde nought ayen the town  
Ben armed for the love of her."

"I know not how," says Bacon in his Essay on Love, "but martial  
men are given to love; I think it is but as they are given to  
wine; for perils commonly ask to be paid in pleasure."

67\. Paris of Troy, of whom Spenser says, "Faerie Queene", .  
34:-

"Most famous Worthy of the world, by whome  
That warre waas kindled which did Troy inflame  
And stately towres of Ilion whilome  
Brought unto balefull ruine, was by name  
Sir Paris, far renown'd through noble fame."

Tristan is the Sir Tristram of the Romances of Chivalry. See his  
adventures in the " Mort d'Arthure." Also Thomas of Ercildoune's  
"Sir Tristram, a Metrical Romance. " His amours with Yseult of  
Ysonde bring him to this circle of the Inferno.

71 . Shakespeare, Sonnet CVI.:-

"When in the chronicle of wasted time  
I see descriptions of the fairest wights  
In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights."

See also the "wives and daughters of chieftains" that appear to  
Ulysses, in the " Odyssey", Book XI. Also Milton, "[*]Paradise  
Regained", II. 357:-

"And ladies of the Hesperides, that seemed  
Fairer than feigned of old, or fabled since  
Of fairy damsels met in forest wide  
By knights of Logres, or of Lyones,  
Lancelot, or Palleas, or Pellenore."

89\. In the original, "l'aer perso", the perse air. Dante, "  
Convito", IV. 20, defines perse as "a color mixed of purple  
and black, but the black predominates." Chaucer's  
"Doctour of Phisike" in the " Canterbury Tales",  
Prologue 441, wore this color:-

"In sanguin and in perse he clad was alle,  
Lined with taffata and with sendalle."

The Glossary defines it, "skie colored, of a bluish gray." The  
word is again used, VII. 103 and " Purg." 09. 097.

97\. The city of Ravenna."One reaches Ravenna," says Amp ere,  
"Voyage Dantesque ", p. 311, "by journeying along the borders of a pine  
forest, which is seven leagues in length, and which seemed to me  
an immense funereal wood, serving as an avenue to the common tomb  
of those two great powers, Dante and the Roman Empire in the  
West. There is hardly room for any other memories than theirs.  
But other poetic names are attached to the Pine Woods of Ravenna.  
Not long ago Lord Byron evoked there the fantastic tales borrowed  
by Dryden from Boccaccio, and now he is himself a figure of the  
past, wandering in this melancholy place. I thought, in  
traversing it, that the singer of despair had ridden along this  
melancholy shore, trodden before him by the graver and slower  
footstep of the poet of the Inferno."

99\. Quoting this line, Ampere remarks, "Voyage Dantesque", p.  
312: "We have only to cast our eyes upon the map to recognize the  
topographical exactitude of this last expression. In fact, in all  
the upper part of its course, the Po receives a multitude of  
affluents, which converge towards its bed. They are the Tessino,  
the Adda, the Olio, the Mincio, the Trebbia, the Bormida, the  
Taro;-names which recur so often in the history of the wars of  
the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries."

103\. Here the word "love" is repeated, as the word "honor " was  
in Canto 04. 072. The verse murmurs with it, like the "moan of doves  
in immemorial elms." St. Augustine says in his " Confessions",  
III. 1: "I loved not yet, yet I loved to love...I sought what I  
might love, in love with loving."

104\. I think it is Coleridge who says: "The desire of man is for  
the woman, but the desire of woman is for the desire of man."

107\. Caina is in the lowest circle of the Inferno, where  
fratricides are punished.

116\. Francesca, daughter of Guido da Polenta, Lord of Ravenna,  
and wife of Gianciotto Malatesta, son of the Lord of Rimini. The  
lover, Paul Malatesta, was the brother of the husband, who,  
discovering their amour, put them both to death with his own  
hand. Carlyle, "Heroes and Hero Worship", Lect. III., says:-  
"Dante's painting is not graphic only, brief, true, and of a  
vividness as of fire in dark night; taken on the wider scale, it  
is every way noble, and the outcome of a great soul. Francesca  
and her Lover, what qualities in that! A thing woven as out of  
rainbows, on a ground of eternal black. A small flute-voice of  
infinite wail speaks there, into our very heart of hearts. A  
touch of womanhood in it too: "della bella persona", "che mi fu  
tolta"; and how, even in the Pit of woe, it is a solace that "  
he" will never part from her! Saddest tragedy in these " alti  
guai." And the racking winds, in that "aer bruno ", whirl them  
away again, to wail forever! - Strange to think: Dante was the  
friend of this poor Francesca's father; Francesca herself may  
have sat upon the Poet's knee, as a bright, innocent little  
child. Infinite pity, yet also infinite rigor of law: it is so  
Nature is made; it is so Dante discerned that she was made."  
Later commentators assert that Dante's friend Guido was not the  
father of Francesca, but her nephew. Boccaccio's account,  
translated from his Commentary by Leigh Hunt, " Stories from the  
Italian Poets", Appendix II., is as follows:-"You must know that  
this lady, Madonna Francesca, was daughter of Messer Guido the  
Elder, lord of Ravenna and of Cervia, and that a long and  
grievous war having been waged between him and the lords  
Malatesta of Rimini, a treaty of peace by certain mediators was  
at length concluded between them; the which, to the end that it  
might be the more firmly established, it pleased both parties to  
desire to fortify by relationship; and the matter of this  
relationship was so discoursed, that the said Messer Guido agreed  
to give his young and fair daughter in marriage to Gianciotto,  
the son of Messer Malatesta. Now, this being made known to  
certain of the friends of Messer Guido, one of them said to him:  
`Take care what you do; for if you contrive not matters  
discreetly, such relationship will beget scandal. You know what  
manner of person your daughter is, and of how lofty a spirit; and  
if she see Gianciotto before the bond is tied, neither you nor  
any one else will have power to persuade her to marry him;  
therefore, if it so please you, it seems to me that it would be  
good to conduct the matter thus: namely, that Gianciotto should  
not come hither himself to marry her, but that a brother of his  
should come and espouse her in his name.' "Gianciotto was a man  
of great spirit, and hoped, after his father's death, to become  
lord of Rimini; in the contemplation of which event, albeit he  
was rude in appearance and a cripple, Messer Guido desired him  
for a son-in-law above any one of his brothers. Discerning,  
therefore, the reasonableness of what his friend counselled, he  
secretly disposed matters according to his device; and a day  
being appointed, Polo, a brother of Gianciotto, came to Ravenna  
with full authority to espouse Madonna Francesca. Polo was a  
handsome man, very pleasant, and of a courteous breeding; and  
passing with other gentlemen over the court-yard of the palace of  
Messer Guido, a damsel who knew him pointed him out to Madonna  
Francesca through an opening in the casement, saying, `That is he  
that is to be your husband'; and so indeed the poor lady  
believed, and incontinently placed in him her whole affection;  
and the ceremony of the marriage having been thus brought about,  
and the lady conveyed to Rimini, she became not aware of the  
deceit till the morning ensuing the marriage, when she beheld  
Gianciotto rise from her side; the which discovery moved her to  
such disdain, that she became not a whit the less rooted in her  
love for Polo. Nevertheless, that it grew to be unlawful I never  
heard, except in what is written by this author (Dante), and  
possibly it might so have become; albeit I take what he says to  
have been an invention framed on the possibility, rather than  
anything which he knew of his own knowledge. Be this as it may,  
Polo and Madonna Francesca living in the same house, and  
Gianciotto being gone into a certain neighboring district as  
governor, they fell into great companionship with one another,  
suspecting nothing; but a servant of Gianciotto's, noting it,  
went to his master and told him how matters looked; with the  
which Gianciotto being fiercely moved, secretly returned to  
Rimini; and seeing Polo enter the room of Madonna Francesca the  
while he himself was arriving, went straight to the door, and  
finding it locked inside, called to his lady to come out; for,  
Madonna Francesca and Polo having descried him, Polo thought to  
escape suddenly through an opening in the wall, by means of which  
there was a descent into another room; and therefore, thinking to  
conceal his fault either wholly or in part, he threw himself into  
the opening, telling the lady to go and open the door. But his  
hope did not turn out as he expected; for the hem of a mantle  
which he had on caught upon a nail, and the lady opening the door  
meantime, in the belief that all would be well by reason of  
Polo's not being there, Gianciotto caught sight of Polo as he was  
detained by the hem of the mantle, and straightway ran with his  
dagger in his hand to kill him; whereupon the lady, to prevent  
it, ran between them; but Gianciotto having lifted the dagger,  
and put the whole force of his arm into the blow, there came to  
pass what he had not desired,-namely, that he struck the dagger  
into the bosom of the lady before it could reach Polo; by which  
accident, being as one who had loved the lady better than  
himself, he withdrew the dagger and again struck at Polo, and  
slew him; and so leaving them both dead, he hastily went his way  
and betook him to his wonted affairs; and the next morning the  
two lovers, with many tears, were buried together in the same  
grave."

121\. This thought is from Boethius, "De Consolat. Philos")., Lib.  
II. Prosa 4: "In omni adversitate fortunae, infelicissimum genus est  
infortunii fuisse felicem et non esse. " In the "Convito", II. 16,  
Dante speaks of Boethius and Tully as having directed him  
"to the love, that is to the study, of this most gentle lady  
Philosophy.  
" From this Venturi and Biagioli infer that, by the Teacher, Boethius  
is meant, not Virgil. This interpretation, however, can hardly be  
accepted, as not in one place only, but throughout the Inferno and  
the Purgatorio, Dante proclaims Virgil as his teacher, " il mio  
Dottore.  
" Lombardi thinks that Virgil had experience of this "greatest sorrow,"

finding himself also in "the infernal prison"; and that it is to this,  
in  
contrast with his happy life on earth, that Francesca alludes, and not  
to  
anything in his writings.

128\. The Romance of Launcelot of the Lake. See Delvan,  
"Biblioteque Bleue ":-

"Chap. 39. Comment Launcelot et la Reine Genievre deviserent de  
choses et d'autres, et surtout de choses amoureuses...  
"La Reine, voyant qu'il n'osait plus rien faire ni dire, le prit  
par le menton et le baisa assez longuement en presence de  
Gallehault. "  
The Romance was to these two lovers, what Galeotto  
(Gallehault or Sir Galahad) had been to Launcelot and Queen  
Guenever. Leigh Hunt speaks of the episode of Francesca as  
standing in the Inferno "like a lily in the mouth of Tartarus."

142\. Chaucer, "Knightes Tale":-

"The colde death, with mouth gaping upright."

Canto 6

1\. The sufferings of these two, and the pity it excited in him.  
As in Shakespeare, " Othello", IV. 1:

"But yet the pity of it, Iago!  
\- O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!"

7\. In this third circle are punished the Gluttons. Instead of the  
feasts of former days, the light, the warmth, the comfort, the  
luxury, and "the frolic wine" of dinner tables, they have the  
murk and the mire, and the "rain eternal, maledict, and cold, and  
heavy"; and are barked at and bitten by the dog in the yard. Of  
Gluttony, Chaucer says in "The Persones Tale", p. 239:-  
"He that is usant to this sinne of glotonie, he ne may no sinne  
withstond, he must be in servage of all vices, for it is the  
devils horde, ther he hideth him and resteth. This sinne hath  
many spices. The first is dronkennesse, that is the horrible  
sepulture of mannes reson: and therefore whan a man is dronke, he  
hath lost his reson: and this is dedly sinne. But sothly, whan  
that a man is not wont to strong drinkes, and peraventure ne  
knoweth not the strength of the drinke, or hath feblenesse in his  
hed, or hath travailled, thurgh which he drinketh the more, al be  
he sodenly caught with drinke, it is no dedly sinne, but venial.  
The second spice of glotonie is, that the spirit of a man wexeth  
all trouble for dronkennesse, and bereveth a man the discretion  
of his wit. The thridde spice of glotonie is, whan a man  
devoureth his mete, and hath not rightful maner of eting. The  
fourthe is, whan thurgh the gret abundance of his mete, the  
humours in his body ben distempered. The fifthe is,  
foryetfulnesse by to moche drinking, for which sometime a man  
forgeteth by the morwe, what he did over eve."

52\. It is a question whether "Ciacco", Hog, is the real name of  
this person, or a nickname. Boccaccio gives him no other. He speaks of  
him, "Comento ", VI. , as a noted diner-out in Florence, "who  
frequented the gentry and the rich, and particularly those who  
ate and drank sumptuously and delicately; and when he was invited by  
them  
to dine, he went; and likewise when he was not invited by them, he  
invited himself; and for this vice he was well known to all  
Florentines;  
though apart from this he was a well-bred man according to his  
condition, eloquent, affable, and of good feeling; on account of which  
he  
was welcomed by every gentleman."  
The following story from the "Decamerone", Gior. IX., Nov. viii.,  
translation of 1684, presents a lively picture of social life  
in Florence in Dante's time, and is interesting for the glimpse  
it gives, not only of Ciacco, but of Philippo Argenti, who is  
spoken of hereafter, Canto VIII. 061. The Corso Donati here  
mentioned is the Leader of the Neri. His violent death is  
predicted, " Purg. " XXIV. 82:-  
"There dwelt somtime in Florence one that was generally called by  
the name of Ciacco, a man being the greatest Gourmand and  
grossest Feeder as ever was seen in any Countrey, all his means  
and procurements meerly unable to maintain expences for filling  
his belly. But otherwise he was of sufficient and commendable  
carriage, fairly demeaned, and well discoursing on any Argument:  
yet not as a curious and spruce Courtier, but rather a frequenter  
of rich mens Tables, where choice of good chear is seldom  
wanting, and such should have his Company, albeit not invited, he  
had the Courage to bid himself welcome. "At the same time, and in  
our City of Florence also, there was another man named Biondello,  
very low of stature, yet comely formed, quick witted, more neat  
and brisk than a Butterflie, always wearing a wrought silk Cap on  
his head, and not a hair standing out of order, but the tuft  
flourishing above the forehead, and he such another trencher flie  
for the Table, as our forenamed Ciacco was. It so fell out on a  
morning in the Lent time, that he went into the Fish-market,  
where he bought two goodly Lampreys for Messer Viero de Cerchi,  
and was espyed by Ciacco, who, coming to Biondello, said, `What  
is the meaning of this cost, and for whom is it?' Whereto  
Biondello thus answered, `Yesternight three other Lampreys, far  
fairer than these, and a whole Sturgeon, were sent unto Messer  
Corso Donati, and being not sufficient to feed divers Gentlemen,  
whom he hath invited this day to dine with him, he caused me to  
buy these two beside: Dost not thou intend to make one of them?'  
`Yes, I warrant thee,' replyed Ciacco, `thou knowest I can invite  
my self thither, without any other bidding.'  
"So parting, about the hour of dinner time Ciacco went to the  
house of Messer Corso, whom he found sitting and talking with  
certain of his Neighbours, but dinner was not as yet ready,  
neither were they come thither to dinner. Messer Corso demanded  
of Ciacco, what news with him, and whether he went? `Why Sir,'  
said Ciacco, `I come to dine with you, and your good Company.'  
Whereto Messer Corso answered, That he was welcome: and his other  
friends being gone, dinner was served in, none else thereat  
present but Messer Corso and Ciacco: all the diet being a poor  
dish of Pease, a little piece of Tunny, and a few small fishes  
fryed, without any other dishes to follow after. Ciacco seeing no  
better fare, but being disappointed of his expectation, as  
longing to feed on the Lampreys and Sturgeon, and so to have made  
a full dinner indeed, was of a quick apprehension, and apparently  
perceived that Biondello had meerly gull'd him in a knavery,  
which did not a little vex him, and made him vow to be revenged  
on Biondello, as he could compass occasion afterward.  
"Before many days were past, it was his fortune to meet with  
Biondello, who having told his jest to divers of his friends, and  
much good merryment made thereat: he saluted Ciacco in a kind  
manner, saying, `How didst thou like the fat Lampreys and  
Sturgeon which thou fed'st on at the house of Messer Corso?'  
`Well, Sir,' answered Ciacco, `perhaps before Eight days pass  
over my head, thou shalt meet with as pleasing a dinner as I  
did.' So, parting away from Biondello, he met with a Porter, such  
as are usually sent on Errands; and hyring him to do a message  
for him, gave him a glass Bottle, and bringing him near to the  
Hall-house of Cavicciuli, shewed him there a Knight, called  
Signior Philippo Argenti, a man of huge stature, very cholerick,  
and sooner moved to Anger than any other man. `To him thou must  
go with this Bottle in thy hand, and say thus to him. Sir,  
Biondello sent me to you, and courteously entreateth you, that  
you would erubinate this glass Bottle with your best Claret Wine;  
because he would make merry with a few friends of his. But beware  
he lay no hand on thee, because he may be easily induced to  
misuse thee, and so my business be disappointed.' `Well, Sir,'  
said the Porter, `shall I say any thing else unto him?' `No,'  
quoth Ciacco, `only go and deliver this message, and when thou  
art returned, I'll pay thee for thy pains.' The Porter being gone  
to the house, delivered his message to the Knight, who, being a  
man of no great civil breeding, but very furious, presently  
conceived that Biondello, whom he knew well enough, sent this  
message in meer mockage of him, and, starting up with fierce  
looks, said, `What erubination of Claret should I send him? and  
what have I to do with him or his drunken friends? Let him and  
thee go hang your selves together.' So he stept to catch hold on  
the Porter, but he being nimble and escaping from him, returned  
to Ciacco and told him the answer of Philippo. Ciacco, not a  
little contented, payed the Porter, tarried in no place till he  
met Biondello, to whom he said, `When wast thou at the Hall of  
Cavicciuli?' `Not a long while,' answered Biondello; `but why  
dost thou demand such a question?' `Because,' quoth Ciacco,  
`Signior Philippo hath sought about for thee, yet know not I what  
he would have with thee.' `Is it so,' replied Biondello, `then I  
will walk thither presently, to understand his pleasure.' "When  
Biondello was thus parted from him, Ciacco followed not far off  
behind him, to behold the issue of this angry business; and  
Signior Philippo, because he could not catch the Porter,  
continued much distempered, fretting and fuming, because he could  
not comprehend the meaning of the Porter's message, but only  
surmised that Biondello, by the procurement of some body else,  
had done this in scorn of him. While he remained thus deeply  
discontented, he espyed Biondello coming towards him, and meeting  
him by the way, he stept close to him and gave him a cruel blow  
on the Face, Biondello, `wherefore do you strike me?' Signior  
Philippo, catching him by the hair of the head, trampled his  
Night Cap in the dirt, and his Cloak also, when, laying many  
violent blows on him, he said, `Villanous Traitor as thou art,  
I'll teach thee what it is to erubinate with Claret, either thy  
self or any of thy cupping Companions. Am I a Child to be jested  
withal?'  
"Nor was he more furious in words than in stroaks also, beating  
him about the Face, hardly leaving any hair on his head, and  
dragging him along in the mire, spoiling all his Garments, and he  
not able, from the first blow given, to speak a word in defence  
of himself. In the end Signior Philippo having extreamly beaten  
him, and many people gathering about them, to succour a man so  
much misused, the matter was at large related, and manner of the  
message sending. For which they all did greatly reprehend  
Biondello, considering he knew what kind of man Philippo was, not  
any way to be jested withal. Biondello in tears maintained that  
he never sent any such message for Wine, or intended it in the  
least degree; so, when the tempest was more mildly calmed, and  
Biondello, thus cruelly beaten and durtied, had gotten home to  
his own house, he could then remember that (questionless) this  
was occasioned by Ciacco. "After some few days were passed over,  
and the hurts in his face indifferently cured, Biondello  
beginning to walk abroad again, chanced to meet with Ciacco, who,  
laughing heartily at him, said, `Tell me, Biondello, how dost  
thou like the erubinating Claret of Signior Philippo?' `As well,'  
quoth Biondello, `as thou didst the Sturgeon and Lampreys at  
Messer Corso Donaties.' `Why then, ' said Ciacco, `let these  
tokens continue familiar between thee and me, when thou wouldest  
bestow such another dinner on me, then will I erubinate thy Nose  
with a Bottle of the same Claret.' But Biondello perceived to his  
cost that he had met with the worser bargain, and Ciacco got  
cheer without any blows; and therefore desired a peacefull  
attonement, each of them always after abstaining from flouting  
one another."  
Ginguene, "Hist. Lit. de l'Italie", II. 53, takes Dante severely  
to task for wasting his pity upon poor Ciacco, but probably the  
poet had pleasant memories of him at Florentine banquets in the  
olden time. Nor is it remarkable that he should be mentioned only  
by his nickname. Mr. Forsyth calls Italy "the land of nicknames.  
" He says in continuation, " Italy", p. 145:-  
"Italians have suppressed the surnames of their principal artists  
under various designations. Many are known only by the names of  
their birthplace, as Correggio, Bassano, etc. Some by those of  
their masters, as Il Salviati, Sansovino, etc. Some by their  
father's trade, as Andrea del Sarto, Tintoretto, etc. Some by  
their bodily defects, as Guercino, Cagnacci, etc. Some by the  
subjects in which they excelled, as M. Angelo delle battaglie,  
Agostino delle perspettive. A few (I can recollect only four) are  
known, each as the " prince" of his respective school, by their  
Christian names alone: Michael Angelo, Raphael, Guido, Titian."

65\. The Bianchi are called the "Parte selvaggia", because its  
leaders, the Cerchi, came from the forest lands of Val di Sieve.  
The other party, the Neri, were led by the Donati.  
The following account of these factions is from Giovanni  
Fiorentino, a writer of the fourteenth century; " Il Pecorone",  
Gior. XIII. Nov. i., in Roscoe's "Italian Novelists ", I. 327.  
"In the city of Pistoia, at the time of its greatest splendor,  
there flourished a noble family, called the Cancellieri, derived  
from Messer Cancelliere, who had enriched himself with his  
commercial transactions. He had numerous sons by two wives, and  
they were all entitled by their wealth to assume the title of  
Cavalieri, valiant and worthy men, and in all their actions  
magnanimous and courteous. And so fast did the various branches  
of this family spread, that in a short time they numbered a  
hundred men at arms, and being superior to every other, both in  
wealth and power, would have still increased, but that a cruel  
division arose between them, from some rivalship in the  
affections of a lovely and enchanting girl, and from angry words  
they proceeded to more angry blows. Separating into two parties,  
those descended from the first wife took the title of Cancellieri  
Bianchi, and the others, who were the offspring of the second  
marriage, were called Cancellieri Neri.  
"Having at last come to action, the Neri were defeated, and  
wishing to adjust the affair as well as they yet could, they sent  
their relation, who had offended the opposite party, to entreat  
forgiveness on the part of the Neri, expecting that such  
submissive conduct would meet with the compassion it deserved. On  
arriving in the presence of the Bianchi, who conceived themselves  
the offended party, the young man, on bended knees, appealed to  
their feelings for forgiveness, observing, that he had placed  
himself in their power, that so they might inflict what  
punishment they judged proper; when several of the younger  
members of the offended party, seizing on him, dragged him into  
an adjoining stable, and ordered that his right hand should be  
severed from his body. In the utmost terror the youth, with tears  
in his eyes, besought them to have mercy, and to take a greater  
and nobler revenge, by pardoning one whom they had it in their  
power thus deeply to injure. But heedless of his prayers, they  
bound his hand by force upon the manger, and struck it off; a  
deed which excited the utmost tumult throughout Pistoia, and such  
indignation and reproaches from the injured party of the Neri, as  
to implicate the whole city in a division of interests between  
them and the Bianchi, which led to many desperate encounters.  
"The citizens, fearful lest the faction might cause insurrections  
throughout the whole territory, in conjunction with the Guelfs,  
applied to the Florentines in order to reconcile them; on which  
the Florentines took possession of the place, and sent the  
partisans on both sides to the confines of Florence, whence it  
happened that the Neri sought refuge in the house of the  
Frescobaldi, and the Bianchi in that of the Cerchi nel Garbo,  
owing to the relationship which existed between them. The seeds  
of the same dissension being thus sown in Florence, the whole  
city became divided, the Cerchi espousing the interests of the  
Bianchi, and the Donati those of the Neri.  
"So rapidly did this pestiferous spirit gain ground in Florence,  
as frequently to excite the greatest tumult; and from a peaceable  
and flourishing state, it speedily became a scene of rapine and  
devastation. In this stage Pope Boniface VIII. was made  
acquainted with the state of this ravaged and unhappy city, and  
sent the Cardinal Acqua Sparta on a mission to reform and pacify  
the enraged parties. But with his utmost efforts he was unable to  
make any impression, and accordingly, after declaring the place  
excommunicated, departed. Florence being thus exposed to the  
greatest perils, and in a continued state of insurrection, Messer  
Corso Donati, with the Spini, the Pazzi, the Tosinghi, the  
Cavicciuli, and the populace attached to the Neri faction,  
applied, with the consent of their leaders, to Pope Boniface.  
They entreated that he would employ his interest with the court  
of France to send a force to allay these feuds, and to quell the  
party of the Bianchi. As soon as this was reported in the city,  
Messer Donati was banished, and his property forfeited, and the  
other heads of the sect were proportionally fined and sent into  
exile. Messer Donati, arriving at Rome, so far prevailed with his  
Holiness, that he sent an embassy to Charles de Valois, brother  
to the king of France, declaring his wish that he should be made  
Emperor, and King of the Romans; under which persuasion Charles  
passed into Italy, reinstating Messer Donati and the Neri in the  
city of Florence. From this there only resulted worse evils,  
inasmuch as all the Bianchi, being the least powerful, were  
universally oppressed and robbed, and Charles, becoming the enemy  
of Pope Boniface, conspired his death, because the Pope had not  
fulfilled his promise of presenting him with an imperial crown.  
From which events it may be seen that this vile faction was the  
cause of discord in the cities of Florence and Pistoia, and of  
the other states of Tuscany; and no less to the same source was  
to be attributed the death of Pope Boniface VIII."

69\. Charles de Valois, called Senzaterra, or Lackland, brother of  
Philip the Fair, king of France.

73\. The names of these two remain unknown. Probably one of them  
was Dante's friend Guido Cavalcanti.

80\. Of this Arrigo nothing whatever seems to be known, hardly  
even his name; for some commentators call him Arrigo dei Fisanti, and  
others Arrigo dei Fifanti. Of these other men of mark "who set  
their hearts on doing good," Farinata is among the Heretics,  
Canto X.; Tegghiaio and Rusticucci among the Sodomites, Canto  
XVI.; and Mosca among the Schismatics, Canto XXVIII.

106\. The philosophy of Aristotle. The same doctrine is taught by  
St. Augustine: "Cum fiet resurrectio carnis, et bonorum gaudia et  
tormenta malorum majora erunt. "

115\. Plutus, the God of Riches, of which Lord Bacon says in his  
"Essays ": -  
"I cannot call riches better than the baggage of virtue; the  
Roman word is better, `impedimenta'; for as the baggage is to an  
army, so is riches to virtue; it cannot be spared nor left

behind, but it hindereth the march; yea, and the care of it  
sometimes loseth or disturbeth the victory; of great riches there  
is no real use, except it be in the distribution; the rest is but  
conceit. ... The personal fruition in any man cannot reach to  
feel great riches: there is a custody of them; or a power of dole  
and donative of them; or a fame of them; but no solid use to the  
owner."

Canto 7

1\. In this Canto is described the punishment of the Avaricious  
and the Prodigal, with Plutus as their jailer. His outcry of alarm is  
differently interpreted by different commentators, and by none  
very satisfactorily. The curious student, groping among them for  
a meaning, is like Gower's young king, of whom he says, in his  
Confessio Amantis:-

"Of deepe ymaginations  
And strange interpretations,  
Problems and demaundes eke  
His wisdom was to finde and seke,  
Whereof he wholde in sondry wise  
Opposen hem, that weren wise;  
But none of hem it mighte bere  
Upon his word to give answere."

But nearly all agree, I believe, in construing the strange words  
into a cry of alarm or warning of Lucifer, that his realm is  
invaded by some unusual apparition.  
Of all the interpretations given, the most amusing is that of  
Benvenuto Cellini, in his description of the Court of Justice in  
Paris, Roscoe's Memoirs of Benvenuto Cellini, Chap, XXII.: - "I  
stooped down several times to observe what passed: the words  
which I heard the judge utter, upon seeing two gentlemen who  
wanted to hear the trial, and whom the porter was endeavoring to  
keep out, were these: `Be quite, be quite, Satan, get hence, and  
leave off disturbing us.' The terms were, Paix, paix, Satan,  
allez, paix. As I had by this time thoroughly learnt the French  
language, upon hearing these words, I recollected what Dante  
said, when he with his master, Virgil, entered the gates of hell;  
for Dante and Giotto the painter were together in France, and  
visited Paris with particular attention, where the court of  
justice may be considered as hell. Hence it is that Dante, who  
was likewise perfect master of the French, made use of that  
expression; and I have often been surprised, that it was never  
understood in that sense; so that I cannot help thinking, that  
the commentators on this author have often made him say things  
which he never so much as dreamed of. "  
Dante himself hardly seems to have understood the meaning of the  
words, though he suggests that Virgil did.

11\. The overthrow of the Rebel Angels. St. Augustine says,

"Idolatria et quaelibet noxia superstitio fornicatio est. "

24\. Must dance the Ridda, a round dance of the olden time. It was  
a Roundelay, or singing and dancing together. Boccaccio's Monna  
Belcolore "knew better than any one how to play the tambourine  
and lead the Ridda."

27\. As the word honor resounds in Canto IV., and the word love in  
Canto V., so here the words rolling and turning are the burden  
of the song, as if to suggest the motion of Fortune's wheel, so  
beautifully described a little later.

39\. Clerks, clerics, or clergy. Boccaccio, Comento, remarks upon  
this passage: "Some maintain, that the clergy wear the tonsure in  
remembrance and reverence of St. Peter, on whom, they say, it was  
made by certain evil-minded men as a mark of madness; because not  
comprehending and not wishing to comprehend his holy doctrine,  
and seeming him feverently preaching before princes and people,  
who held that doctrine in detestation, they thought he acted as  
one out of his senses. Others maintain that the tonsure is worn  
as a mark of dignity, as a sign that those who wear it are more  
worthy than those who do not; and they call it corona, because,  
all the rest of the head being shaven, a single circle of hair  
should be left, which in form of a crown surrounds the whole  
head."

58\. In like manner Chaucer, Persones Tale pp. 227, 337, reproves  
ill-keeping and ill-giving.

"Avarice, after the description of Seint Augustine, is a  
likerousnesse in herte to have erthly things. Som other folk  
sayn, that avarice is for to purchase many earthly things, and  
nothing to yeve to hem that han nede. And understond wel, that  
avarice standeth not only in land ne catel, but som time in  
science and in glorie, and in every maner outrageous thing is  
avarice...  
"But for as moche as som folk ben unmesurable, men oughten for to  
avoid and eschue fool-large, the whiche men clepen waste. Certes,  
he that is fool-large, he yeveth not his catel, but he leseth his  
catel. Sothly, what thing that he yeveth for vaine-glory, as to  
minstrals, and to folk that bere his renome in the world, he hath  
do sinne thereof, and non almesse: certes, he leseth foule his  
good, that ne seketh with the yefte of his good nothing but  
sinne. He is like to an hors that seketh rather to drink drovy or  
troubled water, than for to drink water of the clere well. And  
for as moche as they yeven ther as they shuld nat yeven, to hem  
apperteineth thilke malison, that Crist shal yeve at the day of  
dome to hem that shul be dampned."

68\. The Wheel of Fortune was one of the favorite subjects of art  
and song in the Middle Ages. On a large square of white marble set in  
the pavement of the nave of the Cathedral at Siena, is the  
representation of a revolving wheel. Three boys are climbing and  
clinging at the sides and below; above is a dignified figure with  
a stern countenance, holding the sceptre and ball. At the four  
corners are inscriptions from Seneca, Euripides, Aristotle, and  
Epictetus. The same symbol may be seen also in the  
wheel-of-fortune windows of many churches; as, for example, that  
of San Zeno at Verona. See Knight, Ecclesiastical Architecture,  
II. plates v., vi.  
In the following poem Guido Cavalcanti treats this subject in  
very much the same way that Dante does; and it is curious to  
observe how at particular times certain ideas seem to float in  
the air, and to become the property of every one who chooses to  
make use of them. From the similarity between this poem and the  
lines of Dante, one might infer that the two friends had  
discussed the matter in conversation, and afterwards that each  
had written out their common thought.  
Cavalcanti's Song of Fortune, as translated by Rossetti, Early  
Italian Poets, p. 366, runs as follows:-

"Lo! I am she who makes the wheel to turn;  
Lo! I am who gives and takes away;  
Blamed idly, day by day,  
In all mine acts by you, ye humankind.  
For whoso smites his visage and doth mourn,  
What time he renders back my gifts to me,  
Learns then that I decree  
No state which mine own arrows may not find.  
Who clomb must fall:-this bear ye well in mind,  
Nor say, because, he fell, I did him wrong.  
Yet mine is a vain song:  
For truly ye may find out wisdom when  
King Arthur's resting-place is found of men.

"Ye make great marvel and astonishment  
What time ye see the sluggard lifted up  
And the just man to drop,  
And ye complain on God and on my sway.  
O humankind, ye sin in your complaint:  
For He, that Lord who made the world to live,  
Lets me not take or give  
By mine own act, but as he wills I may.  
Yet is the mind of man so castaway,  
That it discerns not the supreme behest.  
Alas! ye wretchedest,  
And chide ye at God also? Shall not He  
Judge between good and evil righteously?

"Ah! had ye knowlege how God evermore,  
With agonies of soul and grievous heats,  
As on an anvil beats  
On them that in this earth hold hight estate,-  
Ye would choose little rather than more store,  
And solitude than spacious palaces;  
Such is the sore disease  
Of anguish that on all their days doth wait.  
Behold if they be not unfortunate,  
When oft the father dares not trust the son!  
O wealth, with thee is won  
A worm to gnaw forever on his soul  
Whose abject life is laid in thy control!

"If also ye take note what piteous death  
They oftimes make, whose hoards were manifold,  
Who cities had and gold  
And multitudes of men beneath their hand;  
Then he among you that most angereth  
Shall bless me saying, `Lo! I worship thee  
That I was not as he  
Whose death is thus accurst throughout the land.'  
But now your living souls are held in band  
Of avarice, shutting you from the true light  
Which shows how sad and slight  
Are this world's treasured riches and array  
That still change hands a hundred times a day.

"For me,-could envy enter in my sphere,  
Which of all human taint is clean and quit,-  
I well might harbor it  
When I behold the peasant at his toil.  
Guiding his team, untroubled, free from fear,  
He leaves his perfect furrow as he goes,  
And gives his field repose  
From thorns and tares and weeds that vex the soil:  
Thereto he labors, and without turmoil  
Entrusts his work to God, content if so  
Such guerdon from it grow  
That in that year his family shall live:  
Nor care nor thought to other things will give.

"But now ye may no more have speech of me,  
For this mine office craves continual use:  
Ye therefore deeply muse  
Upon those things which ye have heard the while:  
Yea, and even yet remember heedfully  
How this my wheel a motion hath so fleet,  
That in an eyelid's beat  
Him whom it raised it maketh low and vile.  
None was, nor is, nor shall be of such guile,  
Who could, or can, or shall, I say, at length  
Prevail against my strenght.  
But still those men that are my questioners  
In bitter torment own their hearts perverse.

"Song, that wast made to carry high intent  
Dissembled in the garb of humbleness,-  
With fair and open face  
To Master Thomas let they course be bent.  
Say that a great thing scarcely may be pent  
In little room: yet always pray that he  
Commend us, thee and me,  
To them that are more apt in lofty speech:  
For truly one must learn ere he can teach."

74\. This old Rabbinical tradition of the "Regents of the Planets"  
has been painted by Raphael, in the Capella Chigiana of the Church of  
Santa Maria del Popolo in Rome. See Mrs. Jameson, Sacred and  
Legendary Art, I. She says: "As a perfect example of grand and  
poetical feeling I may cite the angels as `Regents of the  
Planets' in the Capella Chigiana. The Cupola represents in a circle  
the  
creation of the solar system, according to the theological (or rather  
astrological) notions which then prevailed,-a hundred years  
before `the starry Gailileo and his woes.' In the centre is the  
Creator; around, in eight compartments, we have, first, the angel  
of the celestial sphere, who seems to be listening to the divine  
mandate, `Let there be lights in the firmament of heaven'; then  
follow, in their order, the Sun, the Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars,  
Jupiter, and Saturn. The name of each planet is expressed by its  
mythlogical representative; the Sun by Apollo, the Moon by Diana;  
and over each presides a grand, colossal winged spirit, seated or  
reclining on a portion of the zodiac as on a throne."  
The old tradition may be found in Stehelin, Rabbinical  
Literature, I, 157. See Cabala, end of Vol III.

98\. Past midnight.

103\. |Perse, purple-black. See Canto V., Note 89.

115\. "Is not this a cursed vice?" says Chaucer in The Persones  
Tale, p. 202, speaking of wrath."Yes, certes. Alas! it benimmeth fro  
man his witte and his reson, and all his debonaire lif spirituel,  
that shulde keepe his soule. Certes it benimmeth also Goddes due  
lordship (and that is mannes soule) and the love of his  
neighbours; it reveth him the quiet of his herte, and subverteth  
his soule. "  
And farther on he continues: "After the sinne of wrath, now wolle  
I speke of the sinne of accidie, or slouth; for envie blindeth  
the herte of a man, and ire troubleth a man, and accidie maketh  
him hevy, thoughtful, and wrawe. Envie and ire maken bitterness  
in herte, which bitternesse is mother of accidie, and benimmeth  
him the love of alle goodnesse, than is accidie the anguish of a  
trouble herte."  
And Burton, Anatomy of Melancholy, I. 3. i. 3, speaking of that  
kind of melancholy which proceeds from "humors adust," says: "For  
example, if it proceeds from flegm (which is seldom, and not so  
frequent as the rest) it stirs up dull symptomes, and a kind of  
stupidity, or impassionate hurt; they are sleepy, saith  
Savanarola, dull, slow, cold, blockish, ass-like, asininam  
melancholiam Melancthon calls it they are much given to weeping,  
and delight in waters, ponds, pools, rivers, fishing, fowling,  
&c. They are pale of color, slothful, apt to sleep, heavy, much  
troubled with the head- ache, continual meditation and muttering  
to themselves, they dream of waters, that they are in danger of  
drowning, and fear such things."  
See also Purg. 17. 085.

Canto 8

1\. Boccaccio and some other commentators think the words "I say,  
continuing," are a confirmation of the theory that the first  
seven cantos of the Inferno were written before Dante's  
banishment from Florence. Others maintain that the words suggest  
only the continuation of the subject of the last canto in this.

4\. These two signal fires announce the arrival of two persons to  
be ferried over the wash, and the other in the distance is on the  
watch-tower of the City of Dis, answering these.

19\. Phlegyas was the father of Ixion and Coronis. He was king of  
the Lapithae, and burned the temple of Apollo at Delphi to avenge the  
wrong done by the god to Coronis. His punishment in the infernal  
regions was to stand beneath a huge impending rock, always about  
to fall upon him. Virgil, Aeneid, VI., says of him: "Phlegyas,  
most wretched, is a monitor to all and with loud voice proclaims  
through the shades, `Being warned, learn righteousness, and not  
to contemn the gods.'"

27\. Virgil, Aeneid, VI.:"The boat of sewn hide groaned under the  
weight, and, being leaky, took in much water from the lake."

49\. Mr. Wright here quotes Spenser, Ruins of Time:-

"How many great ones may remembered be,  
Who in their days most famously did flourish,  
Of whom no word we have, nor sign now see,  
But as things wiped out with a sponge do perish."

51\. Chaucer's "sclandre of his diffame."

61\. Of Philippo Argenti little is known, and nothing to his  
credit. Dante seems to have an especial personal hatred of him, as if  
in  
memory of some disagreeable passage between them in the streets  
of Florence. Boccaccio says of him in his Comento: "This Philippo  
Argenti, as Coppo di Borghese Domenichi de' Cavicciuli was wont  
to say, was a very rich gentleman, so rich that he had the horse  
he used to ride shod with silver, and from this he had his  
surname; he was in person large, swarthy, muscular, of marvellous  
strength, and at the slightest provocation the most irascible of  
men; nor are any more known of his qualities than these two, each  
in itself very blameworthy." He was of the Adimari family, and of  
the Neri faction; while Dante was of the Bianchi party, and in  
banishment. Perhaps this fact may explain the bitterness of his  
invective.  
This is the same Philippo Argenti who figures in Boccaccio's  
tale. See Inf. VI., note 52. The Ottimo Comento says of him: "He  
was a man of great pomp, and great ostentation, and much  
expenditure, and little virtue and worth; and therefore the  
author says, `Goodness is none that decks his memory.'" And this  
is all that is known of the "Fiorentino spirito bizzaro,"  
forgotten by history, and immortalized in song. "What a barbarous  
strength and confusion of ideas," exclaims Leigh Hunt, Italian  
Poets, p. 60, " is there in this whole passage about him!  
Arrogance punished by arrogance, a Christian mother blessed for  
the unchristian disdainfulness of her son, revenge boasted of and  
enjoyed, passion arguing in a circle."

70\. The word "mosques" paints at once to the imagination the City  
of Unbelief.

78\. Virgil, Aeneid, VI., Davidson's Translation:-Aeneas on a  
sudden looks back, and under a rock on the left sees vast prisons  
inclosed with a triple wall, which Tartarean Phlegethon's rapid  
flood environs with torrents of flame, and whirls roaring rocks  
along. Fronting is a huge gate, with columns of solid adamant,  
that no strength of men, nor the gods themselves, can with steel  
demolish. An iron tower rises aloft; and there wakeful  
Tisiphone, with her bloody robe tucked up around her, sits to  
watch the vestibule both night and day."

124\. This arrogance of theirs; tracotanza, oltracotanza ;  
Brantome's outrecuidance; and Spenser's surquedrie.

125\. The gate of the Inferno.

130\. The coming of the Angel, whose approach is described in the  
next canto, beginning at line 64.

Canto 9

1\. flush of anger passes from Virgil's cheek on seeing the  
pallor of Dante's, and he tries to encourage him with assurances  
of success; but betrays his own apprehensions in the broken  
phrase, "If not, " which he immediately covers with words of  
cheer.

8\. Such, or so great a one, is Beatrice, the "fair and saintly  
Lady" of Canto II. 53.

9\. The Angel who will open the gates of the City of Dis.

16\. Dnte seems to think that he has already reached the bottom of  
the infernal conch, with its many convolutions.

52\. Gower, Confessio Amantis, I.:-

"Cast nought thin eye upon Meduse  
That thou be turned into stone."

Hawthorne has beautifully told the story of "The Gorgon's Head, "  
as well as many more of the classic fables, in his Wonder-Book.

54\. The attempt which Theseus and Pirithous made to rescue  
Proserpine from the infernal regions.

62\. The hidden doctrine seems to be, that Negation or Unbelief is  
the Gorgon's head which changes the heart to stone; after which there  
is "no more returning upward." The Furies display it from the  
walls of the City of Heretics.

112\. At Arles lie buried, according to old tradition, the Peers  
of Charlemagne and their ten thousand men at arms. Archbishop  
Turpin, in his famous History of Charles the Great, XXX., Rodd's  
Translation, I. 52, says:-  
"After this the King and his army proceeded by the way of Gascony  
and Thoulouse, and came to Arles, where we found the army of  
Burgundy, which had left us in the hostile valley, bringing their  
dead by the way of Morbihan and Thoulouse, to bury them in the  
plain of Arles. Here we performed the rites of Estolfo, Count of  
Champagne; of Solomon; Sampson, Duke of Burgundy; Arnold of  
Berlanda; Alberic of Burgundy; Gumard, Esturinite, Hato, Juonius,  
Berard, Berengaire, and Naaman, Duke of Bourbon, and of ten  
thousand of their soldiers. "  
Boccacio comments upon these tombs as follows:-  
"At Arles, somewhat out of the city, are many tombs of stone,  
made of old for sepulchres, and some are large, and some are  
small, and some are better sculptured, and some not so well,  
peradventure according to the means of those who had them made;  
and upon some of them appear inscriptions after the ancient  
custom, I suppose in indication of those who are buried within.  
The inhabitants of the country repeat a tradition of them,  
affirming that in that place there was once a great battle  
between William of Orange, or some other Christian prince, with  
his forces on one side, and infidel barbarians for Africa [on the  
other]; and that many Christians were slain in it; and that on  
the following night, by divine miracle, those tombs were brought  
there for the burial of the Christians, and so on the following  
morning all the dead Christians were buried in them."

113\. Pola is a city in Istria. "Near Pola," says Benvenuto da  
Imola, "are seen many tombs, about seven hundred, and of  
various forms." Quarnaro is a gulf of the northern extremity  
of the Adriatic.

Canto 10

1\. In this Canto is described the punishment of Heretics.  
Brunetto Latini, Tesoretto, XIII.:-

"Or va mastro Brunetto  
Per lo cammino stretto."

14\. Sir Thomas Browne, Urn Burial, Chap. IV., says:"They may sit  
in the orchestra and noblest seats of heaven who have held up  
shaking hands in the fire, and humanly contended for glory.  
Meanwhile Epicurus lies deep in Dante's hell, wherein we meet  
with tombs enclosing souls, which denied their immortalities. But  
whether the virtuous heathen, who lived better than he spake, or,  
erring in the principles of himself, yet lived above philosophers  
of more specious maxims, lie so deep as he is placed, at least so  
low as not to rise against Christians, who, believing or knowing  
that truth, have lastingly denied it in their practice and  
conversation, - were a query too sad to insist on."  
Also Burton, Anatomy of Melancholy, Part II. Sec. 2. Mem. 6.  
Subs. I, thus vindicates the memory of Epicurus: "A quiet mind is  
that voluptas, or summum bonum of Epicurus; non dolere, curis  
vacare, animo tranquillo esse, not to grieve, but to want cares,  
and have a quiet soul, is the only pleasure of the world, as  
Seneca truly recites his opinion, not that of eating and  
drinking, which injurious Aristotle maliciously puts upon him,  
and for which he is still mistaken, mala audit et vapulat,  
slandered without a cause, and lashed by all posterity."

32\. Farinata degli Uberti was the most valiant and renowned  
leader of the Ghibellines in Florence. Boccacio, Comento, says: "He was  
of  
the opinion of Epicurus, that the soul dies with the body, and  
consequently maintained that human happiness consisted in  
temporal pleasures; but he did not follow these in the way that  
Epicurus did, that is by making long fasts to have afterwards  
pleasure in eating dry bread; but was fond of good and delicate  
viands, and ate them without waiting to be hungry; and for this  
sin he is damned as a Heretic in this place."  
Farinata led to Ghibellines at the famous battle of Monte Aperto  
in 1260, where the Guelfs were routed, and driven out of  
Florence. He died in 1264.

46\. The ancestors of Dante, and Dante himself, were Guelfs. He  
did not become a Ghibelline till after his banishment. Boccaccio in  
his Life of Dante makes the following remarks upon his party  
spirit. I take the passage as given in Mrs. Bunbury's translation  
of Balbo's Life and Times of Dante, II. 227.  
"He was," says Boccaccio, "a most excellent man, and most  
resolute in adversity. It was only on a one subject that he  
showed himself, I do not know whether I ought to call it  
impatient, or spirited, - it was regarding anything relating to  
Party; since in his exile he was more violent in this respect  
than suited his circumstances, and more than he was willing that  
others should believe. And in order that it may be seen for what  
party he was thus violent and pertinacious, it appears to me I  
must go further back in my story. I believe that it was the just  
anger of God that permitted, it is a long time ago, almost all  
Tuscany and Lombardy to be divided into two parties; I do not  
know how they acquired those names, but one party was called  
Guelf and the other party Ghibelline. And these two names were so  
revered, and had such an effect on the folly of many minds, that,  
for the sake of defending the side any one had chosen for his own  
against the opposite party, it was not considered hard to lose  
property, and even life, if it were necessary. And under these  
names the Italian cities many times suffered serious grievences  
and changes; and among the rest our city, which was sometimes at  
the head of one party, and sometimes of the other, according to  
the citizens in power; so much so that Dante's ancestors, being  
Guelfs, were twice expelled by the Ghibellines from their home,  
and he likewise under the title of Guelf held the reins of the  
Florentine Republic, from which he was expelled, as we have  
shown, not by the the Ghibellines, but by the Guelfs; and seeing  
that he could not return, he so much altered his mind that there  
never was a fiercer Ghibelline, or a bitterer enemy to the  
Guelfs, than he was. And that which I feel most ashamed at for  
the sake of his memory is, that it was a well-known thing in  
Romagna, that if any boy or girl, talking to him on party  
matters, condemned the Ghibelline side, he would become frantic,  
so that if they did not be silent he would have been induced to  
throw stones at them; and with this violence of party feeling he  
lived until his death. I am certainly ashamed to tarnish with any  
fault the fame of such a man; but the order of my subject in some  
degree demands it, because if I were silent in those things in  
which he was to blame, I should not be believed in those things I  
have already related in his praise. Therefore I excuse myself to  
himself, who perhaps looks down from heaven with a disdainful eye  
on me writing."

51\. The following account of the Guelfs and Ghibellines is from  
the Pecorone of Giovanni Fiorentino, a writer of the fourteenth  
century. It forms the first Novella of the Eight Day, and will be  
found in Roscoe's Italian Novelists, I. 322.  
"There formerly resided in Germany two wealthy and well-born  
individuals, whose names were Guelfo and Ghibellino, very near  
neighbors, and greatly attached to each other. But returning  
together one day from the chase, there unfortunately arose some  
difference of opinion as to the merits of one of their hounds,  
which was maintained on both sides so very warmly, that, from  
being almost inseparable friends and companions, they became each  
other's deadliest enemies. This unlucky division between them  
still increasing, they on either side collected parties of their  
followers, in order more effectually to annoy each other. Soon  
extending its malignant influence among the neighboring lords and  
barons of Germany, who divided, according to their motives,  
either with the Guelf or the Ghibelline, it not only produced  
many serious affrays, but several persons fell victims to its  
rage. Ghibellino, finding himself hard pressed by his enemy, and  
unable longer to keep the field against him, resolved to apply  
for assistance to Frederick the First, the reigning Emperor. Upon  
this, Guelfo, perceiving that his adversary sought the alliance  
of this monarch, applied on his side to Pope Honorius II., who  
being at variance with the former, and hearing how the affair  
stood, immediately joined the cause of the Guelfs, the Emperor  
having already embraced that of the Ghibellines. It is thus the  
apostolic see became connected with the former, and the empire  
with the latter faction; and it was thus that a vile hound became  
the origin of a deadly hatred between the two noble families. Now  
it happened that in the year of our dear Lord and Redeemer 1215,  
the same pestiferous spirit spread itself into parts of Italy, in  
the following manner.  
Messer Guido Orlando being at that time chief magistrate of  
Florence, there likewise resided in that city a noble and valiant  
cavalier of the family of Buondelmonti, one of the most  
distinguished houses in the state. Our young Buondelmonte having  
already plighted his troth to a lady of the Amidei family, the  
lovers were considered as betrothed, with all the solemnity  
usually observed on such occasions. But this unfortunate young  
man, chancing one day to pass by the house of the Donati, was  
stopped and accosted by a lady of the name of Lapaccia, who moved  
to him from her door as he went along, saying: `I am surprised  
that a gentleman of your appearance, Signor, should think of  
taking for his wife a woman scarcely worthy of handing him his  
boots. There is a child of my own, whom, to speak sincerely, I  
have long intended for you, and whom I wish you would just  
venture to see.' And on this she called out for her daughter,  
whose name was Ciulla, one of the prettiest and most enchanting  
girls in all Florence. Introducing her to Messer Buondelmonte,  
she whispered, `This is she whom I had reserved for you'; and the  
young Florentine, suddenly becoming enamored of her, thus replied  
to her mother, `I am quite ready, Madonna, to meet your wishes';  
and before stirring from the spot he placed a ring upon her  
finger, and, wedding her, received her there as his wife. "The  
Amidei, hearing that young Buondelmonte had thus espoused  
another, immediately met together, and took counsel with other  
friends and relations, how they might best avenge themselves for  
such an insult offered to their house. There were present among  
the rest Lambertuccio Amidei, Schiatta Ruberti, and Mosca  
Lamberti, one of whom proposed to give him a box on the ear,  
another to strike him in the face; yet they were none of them  
able to agree about it among themselves. On observing this, Mosca  
hastily rose, in a great passion, saying, `Cosa fatta capo ha,'  
wishing it to be understood that a dead man will never strike  
again. It was therefore decided that he should be put to death, a  
sentence which they proceeded to execute in the following manner.  
"M. Buondelmonte returning one Easter morning from a visit to the  
Casa Bardi, beyond the Arno, mounted upon a snow white steed, and  
dressed in a mantle of the same color, had just reached the foot  
of the Ponte Vecchio, or old bridge, where formerly stood a  
statue of Mars, whom the Florentines in their Pagan state were  
accustomed to worship, when the whole party issued out upon him,  
and, dragging him in the scuffle from his horse, in spite of the  
gallant resistance he made, despatched him with a thousand  
wounds. The tidings of this affair seemed to throw all Florence  
into confusion; the chief prsonages and noblest families in the  
place everywhere meeting, and dividing themselves into parties in  
consequence; the one party embracing the cause of the  
Buondelmonti, who placed themselves at the head of the Guelfs;  
and the other taking part with the Amidei, who supported the  
Ghibellines.  
"In the same fatal manner, nearly all the seigniories and cities  
of Italy were involved in the original quarrel between these two  
German families: the Guelfs still supporting the interest of the  
Holy Church, and the Ghibellines those of the Emperor. And thus I  
have made you acquainted with the origin of the Germanic faction,  
between two noble houses, for the sake of a vile cur, and have  
shown how it afterwards disturbed the peace of Italy for the sake  
of a beautiful woman."

53\. Cavalcante de' Cavalcanti, father of Dante's friend, Guido  
Cavalcanti. He was of the Guelf party; so that there are Guelf  
and Ghibelline buried in the same tomb.

60\. This question recalls the scene in the Odyssey, where the  
shade of Agamemnon appears to Ulysses and asks for Orestes.  
Book XI. in Chapman's translation, line 603:-

"Doth my son yet survive  
In Orchomen or Pylos? Or doth live  
In Sparta with his uncle? Yet I see  
Divine Orestes is not here with me."

63\. Guido Cavalcanti, whom Benvenuto da Imola calls "the other  
eye of Florence,"- alter oculus Florentiae tempore Dantis. It is this  
Guido that Dante addresses the sonnet, which is like the breath of  
Spring,  
beginning:-

"Guido, I wish that Lapo, thou, and I  
Could be by spells conveyed, as it were now,  
Upon a barque, with all the winds that blow,  
Across all seas at our good will to hie."

He was a poet of decided mark, as may be seen by his "Song of  
Fortune," quoted in Note 68, Canto VII., and the Sonnet to Dante,  
Note 136, Purgatorio XXX.  
But he seems not to have shared Dante's admiration for Virgil,  
and to have been more given to the study of philosophy than of  
poetry. Like Lucentio in "The Taming of the Shrew" he is

"So devote to Aristotle's ethics  
As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured."

Boccaccio, Decameron, VI. 9, praises him for his learning and  
other good qualities; "for over and beside his being one of the  
best Logitians, as those times not yielded a better," so runs the  
old translation, "he was also a most absolute Natural  
Philosopher, a very friendly Gentleman, singularly well spoken,  
and whatsoever else was commendable in any man was no way wanting  
in him." In the same Novella he tells this anecdote of him:- "It  
chanced upon a day that Signior Guido, departing from the Church  
of Saint Michael d'Horta, and passing along by the  
Adamari, so far as to Saint John's Church, which evermore was his  
customary walk: many goodly Marble Tombs were then about the said  
Church, as now adays are at Saint Reparata, and divers more  
beside. He entring among the Columns of Porphiry, and the other  
Sepulchers being there, because the door of the Church was shut:  
Signior Betto and his Company came riding from Saint Reparata,  
and espying Signior Guido amont the Graves and Tombs, said,  
`Come, let us go make some jests to anger him.' so putting the  
Spurs to their Horses they rode apace towards him; and being upon  
him before he perceived them, one of them said, `Guido, thou  
refusest to be one of our society, and seekest for that which  
never was: when thou hast found it, tell us, what wilt thou do  
with it?'  
"Guido seeing himself round engirt with them, suddenly thus  
replyed:  
`Gentlemen, you may use me in your own House as you please.' And  
setting his hand upon one of the Tombs (which was somewhat great)  
he took his rising, and leapt quite over it on the further side,  
as being of an agile and springhtly body, and being thus freed  
from them, he went away to his own lodging.  
"They stood all like men amazed, strangely looking one upon  
another, and began afterward to murmur among themselves: That  
Guido was a man without any understanding, and the answer which  
he had made unto them was to no purpose, neither savoured of any  
discretion, but meerly came from an empty Brain, because they had  
no more to do in the place where now they were, than any of the  
other Citizens, and Signior Guido (himself) as little as any of  
them; whereto Signior Betto thus replyed: `Alas, Gentlemen, it is  
you your selves that are void of understanding: for, if you had  
but observed the answer which he made unto us: he did honestly,  
and (in very few words) not only notably express his own wisdom,  
but also deservedly reprehend us. Because, if we observe things  
as we ought to do, Graves and Tombs are the Houses of the dead,  
ordained and prepared to be the latest dwellings. He told us  
moreover that although we have here (in this life) our  
habitations and abidings, yet these (or the like) must at last be  
our Houses. To let us know, and all other foolish, indiscreet,  
and unlearned men, that we are worse than dead men, in comparison  
of him, and other men equal to him in skill and learning. And  
therefore, while we are here among the Graves and Monuments, it  
may be well said, that we ar not far from our own Houses, or how  
soon we shall be possessors of them, in regard of the frailty  
attending on us.'"  
Napier, Florentine History, I. 368, speaks of Guido as "a bold,  
melancholy man, who loved solitude and literature; but generous,  
brave, and courteous, a poet and philosopher, and one that seems  
to have had the respect and admiration of his age." He then adds  
this singular picture of the times:-  
"Corso Donati, by whom he was feared and hated, would have had  
him murdered while on a pilgrimage to Saint James of Galicia; on  
his return this became known and gained him many supporters  
amongst the Cerchi and other youth of Florence; he took no  
regular measures of vengeance, but accidentally meeting Corso in  
the street, rode violently towards him, casting his javelin at  
the same time; it missed by the tripping of his horse and he  
escaped with a slight wound from one of Donati's attendants."  
Sacchetti, Nov. 68, tells a pleasant story of Guido's having his  
cloak nailed to the bench by a roguish boy, while he was playing  
chess in one of the streets of Florence, which is also a curious  
picture of Italian life.

75\. Farinata pays no attention to this outburst of paternal  
tenderness on the part of his Guelfic kinsman, but waits, in  
stern indifference, till it is ended, and then calmly resumes his  
discourse.

80\. The moon, called in the heavens Diana, on earth Luna, and in  
the infernal regions Proserpina.

86\. In the great battle of Monte Aperto. The river Arbia is a few  
miles south of Siena. The traveller crosses it on his way to  
Rome. In this battle the banished Ghibellines of Florence,  
joining the Sienese, gained a victory over the Guelfs, and retook  
the city of Florence. Before the battle Buonaguida, Syndic of  
Siena, presented the keys of the city to the Virgin Mary in the  
Cathedral, and made a gift to her of the city and the neighboring  
country. After the battle the standard of the vanquished  
Florentines, together with their battle-bell, the Martinella, was  
tied to the tail of a jackass and dragged in the dirt. See  
Ampere, Voyage Dantesque, 254.

94\. After the battle of Monte Aperto a diet of the Ghibellines  
was held at Empoli, in which the deputies from Siena and Pisa,  
prompted no doubt by provincial hatred, urged the demolition of  
Florence. Farinata vehemently opposed the project in a speech,  
thus given in Napier, Florentine History, I. 257:-  
"`It would have been better,' he exclaimed, `to have died on the  
Arbia, than survive only to hear such a proposition as that which  
they were then discussing. There is no happiness in victory  
itself, that must ever be sought for amongst the companions who  
helped us to gain the day, and the injury we receive from an  
enemy inflicts a far more trifling wound than the wrong that  
comes from the hand of a friend. If I now complain, it is not  
that I fear the destruction of my native city, for as long as I  
have life to wield a sword Florence shall never be destroyed; but  
I cannot suppress my indignation at the discourses I have just  
been listening to: we are here assembled to discuss the wisest  
means of maintaining our influence in Florence, not to debate on  
its destruction, and my country would indeed be unfortunate, and  
I and my companions miserable, mean-spirited creatures, if it  
were true that the fate of our city depended on the fiat of the  
present assembly. I did hope that all former hatred would have  
been banished from such a meeting, and that our mutual  
destruction would not have been treacherously aimed at from under  
the false colors of general safety; I did hope that all here were  
convinced that counsel dictated by jealousy could never be  
advantageous to the general good! But to what does your hatred  
attach itself? To the ground on which the city stands? To its  
houses and insensible walls? To the fugitives who have abandoned  
it? Or to ourselves that now possess it? Who is he that thus  
advises? Who is the bold bad man that dare thus give voice to the  
malice he hath engendered in his soul? It is meet then that all  
your cities should exist unharmed, and ours alone be devoted to  
destruction? That you should return in triumph to your hearths,  
and we with whom you have conquered should have nothing in  
exchange but exile and the ruin of our country? Is there on of  
you who can believe that I could even hear such things with  
patience? Are you indeed ignorant that if I have carried arms, if  
I have persecuted my foes, I still have never ceased to love my  
country, and that I never will allow what even our enemies have  
respected to be violated by your hands, so that posterity may  
call them the saviours, us the destroyers of our country? Here  
then I declare, that, although I stand alone amongst the  
Florentines, I will never permit my native city to be destroyed,  
and if it be necessary for her sake to die a thousand deaths, I  
am ready to meet them all in her defence. '  
"Farinata then rose, and with angry gestures quitted the  
assembly; but left such an impression on the mind of his audience  
that the project was instantly dropped, and the only question for  
the moment was how to regain a chief of such talent and  
influence."

119\. Frederick II., son of the Emperor Henry VI., surnamed the  
Severe, and grandson of Barbarossa. He reigned from 1220 to 1250, not  
only as Emperor of Germany, but also as King of Naples and  
Sicily, where for the most part he held his court, one of the  
most brilliant of the Middle Ages. Villani, Cronica, V. I, thus  
sketches his character: "This Frederick reigned thirty years as  
Emperor, and was a man of great mark and great worth, learned in  
letter and of natural ability, universal in all things; he knew  
the Latin language, the Italian, the German, French, Greek, and  
Arabic; was copiously endowed with all virtues, liberal and  
courteous in giving, valiant and skilled in arms, and was much  
feared. And he was dissolute and voluptuous in many ways, and had  
many concubines and mamelukes, after the Saracenic fashion; he  
was addicted to all sensual delights, and led an Epicurean life,  
taking no account of any other; and this was one principal reason  
why he was an enemy to the clergy and the Holy Church."  
Milman, Lat. Christ., B. X., Chap. iii., says of him:  
"Frederick's predilection for his native kingdom, for the bright cities  
reflected in the blue Mediterranean, over the dark barbaric towns  
of Germany, of itself characterizes the man. The summer skies,  
the more polished manners, the more elegant luxuries, the  
knowledge, the arts, the poetry, the gayety, the beauty, the  
romance of the South, were throughout his life more congenial to  
his mind, than the heavier and more chilly climate the feudal  
barbarism, the ruder pomp, the coarser habits of his German  
liegemen... And no doubt that delicious climate and lovely  
land, so highly appreciated by the gay sovereign, was not without  
influence on the state, and even the manners of his court, to  
which other circumstances contributed to give a peculiar and  
romantic character. It resembled probably (though its full  
splendor was of a later period) Grenada in its glory, more than  
any other in Europe, though more rich and picturesque from the  
variety of races, of manners, usages, even dresses, which  
prevailed within it." Gibbon also, Decline and Fall, Chap. lix.,  
gives this graphic picture:-  
"Frederick the Second, the grandson of Barbarossa, was  
successively the pupil, the enemy, and the victim of the Church.  
At the age of twenty-one years, and in obedience to his guardian  
Innocent the Third, he assumed the cross; the same promise was  
repeated at his royal and imperial coronations; and his marriage  
with the heiress of Jerusalem forever bound him to defend the  
kingdom of his son Conrad. But as Frederick advanced in age and  
authority, he repented of the rash engagements of his youth: his  
liberal sense and knowledge taught him to despise the phantoms of  
superstition and the crowns of Asia: he no longer entertained the  
same reverence for the successors of Innocent; and his ambition  
was occupied by the restoration of the Italian monarchy, from  
Sicily to the Alps. But the success of this project would have  
reduced the Popes to their primitive simplicity; and, after the  
delays and excuses of twelve years, they urged the Emperor, with  
entreaties and threats, to fix the time and place of his  
departure for Palestine. In the harbors of Sicily and Apulia he  
prepared a fleet of one hundred galleys, and of one hundred  
vessels, that were famed to transport and land two thousand five  
hundred knights, with horses and attendants; his vassals of  
Naples and Germany formed a powerful army; and the number of  
English crusaders was magnified to sixty thousand by the report  
of frame. But the inevitable, or affected, slowness of these  
mighty preparations consumed the strength and provisions of the  
more indigent pilgrims; the multitude was thinned by sickness and  
desertion, and the sultry summer of Calabria anticipated the  
mischiefs of a Syrian campaign. At length the Emperor hoisted  
sail at Brundusium with a fleet and army of forty thousand men;  
but he kept the sea no more than three days; and his hasty  
retreat, which was ascribed by his friends to a grievous  
indisposition, was accused by his enemies as a voluntary and  
obstinate disobedience. For suspending his vow was Frederick  
excommunicated by Gregory the Ninth; for presuming, the next  
year, to accomplish his vow, he was again excommunicated by the  
same Pope. While he served under the banner of the cross, a  
crusade was preached against him in Italy; and after his return  
he was compelled to ask pardon for the injuries which he had  
suffered. The clergy and military orders of Palestine were  
previously instructed to renounce his communion and dispute his  
commands; and in his own kingdom the Emperor was forced to  
consent that the orders of the camp should be issued in the name  
of God and of the Christian republic. Frederick entered Jerusalem  
in triumph; and with his own hands (for no priest would perform  
the office) he took the crown from the alter of the holy  
sepulchre."  
Matthew Paris, A. D. 1239, gives a long letter of Pope Gregory  
IX. in which he calls the Emperor some very hard names; "a beast,  
full of the words of blasphemy," "a wolf in sheep's clothing, "  
"a son lies," "a staff of the impious," and "hammer of the  
earth"; and finally accuses him of being the author of a work De  
Tribus Impostoribus, which, if it ever existed, is no longer to  
be found. "There is one thing," he says in conclusion, "at which,  
although we ought to mourn for a lost man, you ought to rejoice  
greatly, and for which you ought to return thanks to God, namely,  
that this man, who delights in being called a forerunner of  
Antichrist, by God's will, no longer endures to be veiled in  
darkness; not expecting that his trial and disgrace are near, he  
with his own hands undermines the wall of his abominations, and,  
by the said letters of his, brings his works of darkness to the  
light, boldly setting forth in them, that he could not be  
excommunicated by us, although the Vicar of Christ; thus  
affirming that the Church had not the power of binding and  
loosing, which was given by our Lord to St. Peter and his  
successors...But as it may not be easily believed by some  
people that he has ensnared himself by the words of his own  
mouth, proofs are ready, to the triumph of the faith; for this  
king of pestilence openly asserts that the whole world was  
deceived by three, namely Christ Jesus, Moses, and Mahomet; that,  
two of them having died in glory, the said Jesus was suspended on  
the cross; and he, moreover, presumes plainly to affirm (or  
rather to lie), that all are foolish who believe that God, who  
created nature, and could do all things, was born of the Virgin."

120\. This is Cardinal Ottaviano delgi Ubaldini, who is accused of  
saying, "If there be any soul, I have lost mine for the  
Ghibellines." Dante takes him at his word.

Canto 11

8\. Some critics and commentators accuse Dante of confounding Pope  
Anastasius with the Emperor of that name. It is however highly  
probable that Dante knew best whom he meant. Both were accused of  
heresy, though the heresy of the Pope seems to have been of a  
mild type. A few years previous to his time, namely, in the year  
484, Pope Felix III. and Acacius, Bishop of Constantinople,  
mutually excommunicated each other. When Anastasius II. became  
Pope in 496, "he dared," says Milman, Hist. Lat. Christ., I. 349,  
"to doubt the damnation of a bishop excommunicated by the See of  
Rome: `Felix and Acacius are now both before a higher tribunal;  
leave them to that unerring judgment.' He would have the name of  
Acacius passed over in silence, quietly dropped, rather than  
publicly expunged from the diptychs. This degenerate successor of  
St. Peter is not admitted to the rank of a saint. The Pontifical  
book (its authority on this point is indignantly repudiated)  
accuses Anastasius of having communicated with a deacon of  
Thessalonica, who had kept up communion with Acacius; and of  
having entertained secret designs of restoring the name of  
Acacius in the services of the Church."

9\. Photinus is the deacon of Thessalonica alluded to in the  
preceding note. His heresy was, that the Holy Ghost did not  
proceed from the Father, and that the Father was greater than the  
Son. The writers who endeavor to rescue the Pope at the expense  
of the Emperor say that Photinus died before the days of Pope  
Anastasius.

50\. Cahors is the cathedral town of the Department of the Lot, in  
the South of France, and the birthplace of the poet Clement Marot  
and of the romance-writer Calprenede. In the Middle Ages it  
seems to have been a nest of usurers. Matthew Paris, in his  
Historia Major, under date of 1235, has a chapter entitled, Of  
the Usury of the Caursines, which in the translation of Rev. J.  
A. Giles runs as follows:-  
"In these days prevailed the horrible nuisance of the Caursines  
to such a degree that there was hardly any one in all England,  
especially among the bishops, who was not caught in their net.  
Even the king himself was held indebted to them in an  
uncalculable sum of money. For they circumvented the needy in  
their necessities, cloaking their usury under the show of trade,  
and pretending not to know that whatever is added to the  
principal is usury, under whatever name it may be called. For it  
is manifest that their loans lie not in the path of charity,  
inasmuch as they do not hold out a helping hand to the poor to  
relieve them, but to deceive them; not to aid others in their  
starvation, but to gratify their own covetousness; seeing that  
the motive stamps our every deed. "

70\. Those within the fat lagoon, the Irascible, Canto VII., VIII.

71\. Whom the wind drives, the Wanton, Canto V., and whom the rain  
doth beat, the Gluttonous, Canto VI.

72\. And who encounter with such bitter tongues, the Prodigal and  
Avaricious, Canto VIII.

80\. The Ethics of Aristotle, VII. i. "After these things, making  
another beginning, it must be observed by us that there are three  
species of things which are to be avoided in manners, viz.  
Malice, Incontinence, and Bestiality."

101\. The Physics of Aristotle, Book II.

107\. Genesis, i. 28: "And God said unto them, Be fruitful, and  
multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it."

109\. Gabrielle Rossetti, in the Comento Analitico of his edition  
of the Divina Commedia, quotes here the lines of Florian:-

"Nous ne recevons l'existence  
Qu'afin de travailler pour nous, ou pour autrui:  
De ce devoir sacre quiconque se dispense  
Est puni par la Providence,  
Par le besoin, ou par l'ennui."

110\. The constellation Pisces precedes Aries, in which the sun  
now is. This indicates the time to be a little before sunrise. It is  
Saturday morning.

114\. The Wain is the constellation Charle's Wain, or Bo,otes; and  
Caurus is the Northwest, indicated by the Latin name of the  
northwest wind.

Canto 12

1\. With this Canto begins the Seventh Circle of the Inferno, in  
which the Violent are punished. In the first Girone or round are  
the Violent against their neighbors, plunged more or less deeply  
in the river of boiling blood.

2\. Mr. Ruskin, Modern Painters, III. 242, has the following  
remarks upon Dante's idea of rocks and mountains.-  
"At the top of the abyss of the seventh circle, appointed for the  
`violent,' or souls who had done evil by force, we are told,  
first, that the edge of it was composed of `great broken stones  
in a circle'; then, that the place was `Alpine'; and, becoming  
hereupon attentive, in order to hear what an Alpine place is  
like, we find that it was `like the place beyond Trent, where the  
rock, either by earthquake, or failure of support, has broken  
down to the plain, so that it gives any one at the top some means  
of getting down to the bottom.' This is not a very elevated or  
enthusiastic description of an Alpine scene; and it is far from  
mended by the following verses, in which we are told that Dante  
`began to go down by this great unloading of stones,' and that  
they moved often under his feet by reason of the new weight. The  
fact is that Dante, by many expressions throughout the poem,  
shows himself to have been a notably bad climber; and being fond  
of sitting in the sun, looking at his fair Baptistery, or walking  
in a dignified manner on flat pavement in a long robe, it puts  
him seriously out of his way when he has to take to his hands and  
knees, or look to his feet; so that the first strong impression  
made upon him by any Alpine scene whatever is, clearly, that it  
is bad walking. When he is in a fright and hurry, and has a very  
steep place to go down, Virgil has to carry him altogether."

5\. Speaking of the region to which Dante here alludes, Eustace,  
Classical Tour, I. 71, says:-"The descent becomes more rapid  
between Roveredo and Ala; the river, which glided gently through  
the valley of Trent, assumes the roughness of a torrent; the  
defiles become narrower; and the mountains break into rocks and  
precipices, which occasionally approach the road, sometimes rise  
perpendicular from it, and now and then hand over it in terrible  
majesty."  
In a note he adds:-  
"Amid these wilds the traveller cannot fail to notice a vast  
tract called the Slavini di Marco, covered with fragments of rock  
torn from the sides of the neighboring mountains by an  
earthquake, or perhaps by their own unsupported weight, and  
hurled down into the plains below. They spread over the whole  
valley, and in some places contract the road to a very narrow  
space. A few firs and cypresses scattered in the intervals, or  
sometimes rising out of the crevices of the rocks, cast a partial  
and melancholy shade amid the surrounding nakedness and  
desolation. This scene of ruin seems to have made a deep  
impression upon the wild imagination of Dante, as he has  
introduced it into the twelfth canto of the Inferno, in order to  
give the reader an adequate idea of one of his infernal  
ramparts."

12\. The Minotaur, half bull, half man. See the infamous story in  
all the classical dictionaries.

18\. The Duke of Athens is Theseus. Chaucer gives him the same  
title in The Knights Tale:-

"Whilom, as olde stories tellen us,  
Ther was a duk that highte Theseus.  
Of Athenes he was lord and governour,  
That greter was ther non under the sonne.  
Ful many a rich contree had he wonne.  
What with his wisdom and his chevalrie,  
He conquerd all the regne of Feminie,  
That whilom was ycleped Scythia;  
And wedded the freshe quene Ipolita,  
And brought hire home with him to his contree  
With mochel glorie and great solempnitee,  
And eke hire yonge suster Emelie.  
And thus with victorie and with melodie  
Let I this worthy duk to Athenes ride,  
And all his host, in armes him beside."

Shakespeare also, in the Midsummer Night's Dream, calls him the  
Duke of Athens.

20\. Ariadne, who gave Theseus the silken thread to guide him back  
through the Cretan labyrinth after slaying the Minotaur.  
Hawthorne has beatifully told the old story in his Tanglewood  
Tales."Ah, the bull-headed villain!" he says. "And O my good  
little people, you will perhaps see, one of these days, as I do  
now, that every human being who suffers anything evil to get into  
his nature, or to remain there, is a kind of Minotaur, an enemy  
of his fellow- creatures, and separated from all good  
companionship, as this poor monster was."

39\. Christ's descent into Limbo, and the earthquake at the  
Crucifixion.

42\. This is the doctrine of Empedocles and other old  
philosophers.  
See Ritter, History of Ancient Philosophy, Book V., Chap. vi. The  
following passages are from Mr. Morrison's translation: -  
"Empedocles proceeded from the Eleatic principle of the oneness  
of all truth. In its unity it resembles a ball; he calls it the sphere,

wherein the ancients recognized the God of Empedoocles...  
"Into the unity of the sphere all elementary things are combined  
by love, without difference or distinction: within it they lead a  
happy life, replete with holiness, and remote from discord:

They know no god of war nor the spirit of battles, Nor Zeus, the  
sovereign, nor Cronos, nor yet Poseidon, But Cypris the  
queen...

"The actual separation of the elements one from another is  
produced by discord; for originally they were bound together in  
the sphere, and therein continued perfectly unmovable. Now in  
this Empedocles posits different periods and different conditions  
of the world; for, according to the above position, originally  
all is united in love, and then subsequently the elements and  
living essences are separated. ...

"His assertion of certain mundane periods was taken by the  
ancients literally; for they tell us that, according to his  
theory, All was originally one by love, but afterwards many and  
at enmity with itself through discord."

56\. The Centaurs are set to guard this Circle, as symbolizing  
violence, with some form of which the classic poets usually  
associate them.

68\. Chaucer, The Monkes Tale:-

"A lemman had this noble champion,  
That highte Deianire, as fresh as May;  
And as thise clerkes maken mention,  
She hath him sent a sherte fresh and gay:  
Alas! this sherte, alas and wala wa!  
Envenimed was sotilly withalle,  
That or that he had wered it half a day,  
It made his flesh all from his bones falle."

Chiron was a son of Saturn; Pholus, of Silenus; and Nessus, of  
Ixion and the Cloud.

71\. Homer, Iliad, XI. 832, "Whom Chiron instructed, the most just  
of the Centaurs." Hawthorne gives a humorous turn to the fable of  
Chiron, in the Tanglewod Tales, p. 273:-  
"I have sometimes suspected that Master Chiron was not really  
very different from other people, but that, being a kind-hearted  
and merry old fellow, he was in the habit of making believe that  
he was a horse, and scrambling about the school-room on all  
fours, and letting the little boys ride upon his back. And so,  
when his scholars had grown up, and grown old, and were trotting  
their grandchildren on their knees, they told them about the  
sports of their school days; and these young folks took the idea  
that their grandfathers had been taught their letters by a  
Centaur, half man and half horse...  
"Be that as it may, it has always been told for a fact, (and  
always will be told, as long as the world lasts,) that Chiron,  
with the head of a schoolmaster, had the body and legs of a  
horse. Just imagine the grave old gentleman clattering and  
stamping into the school room on his four hoofs, perhaps treading  
on some little fellow's toes, flourishing his switch tail instead  
of a rod, and, now and them, trotting out of doors to eat a  
mouthful of grass!"

77\. Mr. Ruskin refers to this line in confirmation of his theory  
that "all great art represents something that it sees or believes in;  
nothing unseen or uncredited." The passage is as follows, Modern  
Painters, III. 83:-  
"And just because it is always something that it sees or believes  
in, there is the peculiar character above noted, almost  
unmistakable, in all high and true ideals, of having been as it  
were studies from the life, and involving pieces of sudden  
familiarity, and close specific painting which never would have  
been admitted or even thought of, had not the painter drawn  
either from the bodily life or from the life of faith. For  
instance, Dante's Centaur, Chiron, dividing his beard with his  
arrow before he can speak, is a thing that no mortal would ever  
have thought of, if he had not actually seen the Centaur do it.  
They might have composed handsome bodies of men and horses in all  
possible ways, through a whole life of pseudo-idealism, and yet  
never dreamed of any such thing. But the real living Centaur  
actually trotted across Dante's brain, and he saw him do it."

107\. Alexander of Thessaly and Dionysius of Syracuse. 51

110\. Azzolino, or Ezzolino di Romano, tyrant of Padua, nicknamed  
the Son of the Devil. Ariosto, Orlando Furioso, III. 33, describes  
him as

"Fierce Ezelin, that most inhuman lord,  
Who shall be deemed by men a child of hell."

His story may be found in Sismondi's Histoire des Republiques  
Italiennes, Chap. XIX. He so outraged the religious sense of the  
people by his cruelties, that a crusade was preached against him,  
and he died a prisoner in 1259, tearing the bandages from his  
wounds, and fierce and defiant to the last.  
"Ezzolino was small of stature," says Sismondi, "but the whole  
aspect of his person, all his movements, indicated the soldier.  
His language was bitter, his countenance proud; and by a single  
look, he made the boldest tremble. His soul, so greedy of all  
crimes, felt no attraction for sensual pleasures. Never had  
Ezzolino loved women; and this perhaps is the reason why in his  
punishments he was as pitiless against them as against men. He  
was in his sixty- sixth year when he died; and his reign of blood  
had lasted thirty- four years." Many glimpses of him are given in  
the Cento Novelle Antiche, as if his memory long haunted the  
minds of men. Here are two of them, from Novella 83.  
"Once upon a time Messer Azzolino da Romano made proclamation,  
through his own territories and elsewhere, that he wished to do a  
great charity, and therefore that all the beggars, both men and  
women, should assemble in his meadow, on a certain day, and to  
each he would give a new gown, and abundance of food. The news  
spread among the servants on all hands. When the day of  
assembling came, his seneschals went among them with the gowns  
and the food, and made them strip naked one by one, and then  
clothed them with new clothes, and fed them. They asked for their  
old rags, but it was all in vain; for he put them into a heap and  
set fire to them. Afterwards he found there so much gold and  
silver melted, that it more than paid the expense, and then he  
dismissed them with his blessing...  
"To tell you how much he was feared, would be a long story, and  
many people knew it. But I will recall how he, being one day with  
the Emperor on horseback, with all their people, they laid a  
wager as to which of them had the most beautiful sword. The  
Emperor drew from its sheath his own, which was wonderfully  
garnished with gold and precious stones. Then said Messer  
Azzolino: `It is very beautiful; but mine, without any great  
ornament, is far more beautiful'; - and he drew it forth. Then  
six hundred knights, who were with him, all drew theirs. When the  
Emperor beheld this cloud of swords, he said: `Yours is the most  
beautiful.'"

111\. Obizzo da Esti, Marquis of Ferrara. He was murdered by Azzo,  
"whom he thought to be his son," says Boccaccio, "though he was  
not. " The Ottimo Comento remarks: "Many call themselves sons,  
and are step-sons."

119\. Guido di Monforte, who murdered Prince Henry of England "in  
the bosom of God," that is, in the church, at Viterbo. The event is  
thus narrated by Napier, Florentine History, I. 283:-  
"Another instance of this revengeful spirit occurred in the year  
1271 at Viterbo, where the cardinals had assembled to elect a  
successor to Clement the Fourth, about whom they had been long  
disputing: Charles of Anjou and Philip of France, with Edward and  
Henry, sons of Richard, Duke of Cornwall, had repaired there, the  
two first to hasten the election, which they finally accomplished  
by the elevation of Gregory the Tenth. During these proceedings  
Prince Henry, while taking the sacrament in the church of San  
Silvestro at Viterbo, was stabbed to the heart by his own cousin,  
Guy de Montfort, in revenge for the Earl of Leicester's death,  
although Henry was then endeavoring to procure his pardon. This  
sacrilegious act threw Viterbo into confusion, but Montfort had  
many supporters, one of whom asked him what he had done. `I have  
taken my revenge,' said he. ` But your father's body was  
trailed!' At this reproach, De Montfort instantly re-entered the  
church, walked straight to the altar, and, seizing Henry's body  
by the hair, dragged it through the aisle, and left it, still  
bleeding, in the open street: he then retired unmolested to the  
castle of his father-in-law, Count Rosso of the Maremma, and  
there remained in security!" "The body of the Prince," says  
Barlow, Study of Dante, p. 125, "was brought to England, and  
interred at Hayles, in Gloucestershire, in the Abbey which his  
father had there built for monks of the Cistercian order; but his  
heart was put into a golden vase, and placed on the tomb of  
Edward the Confessor, in Westminster Abbey; most probably, as  
stated by some writers, in the hands of a statue. "

123\. Violence in all its forms was common enough in Florence in  
the age of Dante.

134\. Attila, the Scourge of God. Gibbon, Decline and Fall, Chap.  
39, describes him thus:-  
"Attila, the son of Mundzuk, deduced his noble, perhaps his  
regal, descent from the ancient Huns, who had formerly contended  
with the monarchs of China. His features, according to the  
observation of a Gothic historian, bore the stamp of his national  
origin; and the portrait of Attila exhibits the genuine deformity  
of a modern Calmuk; a large head, a swarthy complexion, small,  
deep-seated eyes, a flat nose, a few hairs in the place of a  
beard, broad shoulders, and a short, square body, of nervous  
strength, though of a disproportioned form. The haughty step and  
demeanor of the King of the Huns expressed the consciousness of  
his superiority above the rest of mankind; and he had a custom of  
fiercely rolling his eyes, as if he wished to enjoy the terror  
which he inspired. "

135\. Which Pyrrhus and which Sextus, the commentators cannot  
determine; but incline to Pyrrhus of Epirus, and Sextus Pompey,  
the corsair of the Mediterranean.

137\. Nothing more is known of these highwaymen than that the  
first infested the Roman sea-shore, and that the second was of a noble  
family of Florence.

Canto 13

1\. In this Canto is described the punishment of those who had  
laid violent hands on themselves or their property.

2\. Chaucer, Knights Tale, 1977:-

"First on the wall was peinted a forest,  
In which ther wonneth neyther man ne best,  
With knotty knarry barrein trees old  
Of stubbes sharpe and hidous to behold;  
In which there ran a romble and a swough  
As though a storme shuld bresten every bough."

9\. The Cecina is a small river running into the Mediterranean not  
many miles south of Leghorn; Corneto, a village in the Papal  
States, north of Civita Vecchia. The country is wild and thinly  
peopled, and studded with thickets, the haunts of the deer and  
the wild boar. This region is the fatal Maremma, thus described  
by Forsyth, Italy, p. 156:-  
"Farther south is the Maremma, a region which, though now worse  
than a desert, is supposed to have been anciently both fertile  
and healthy. The Maremma certainly formed part of that Etruria  
which was called from its harvests the annonaria. Old Roman  
cisterns may still be traced, and the ruins of Populonium are  
still visible in the worst part of this tract: yet both nature  
and man seem to have conspired against it.  
"Sylla threw this maritime part of Tuscany into enormous  
latifundia for his disbanded soldiers. Similar distributions  
continued to lessen its population during the Empire. In the  
younger Pliny's time the climate was pestilential. The Lombards  
gave it a new aspect of misery. Wherever they found culture they  
built castles, and to each castle they allotted a `bandita' or  
military fief. Hence baronial wars which have left so many  
picturesque ruins on the hills, and such desolation round them.  
Whenever a baron was conquered, his vassals escaped to the  
cities, and the vacant fief was annexed to the victorious. Thus  
stripped of men, the lands returned into a state of nature: some  
were flooded by the rivers, others grew into horrible forests,  
which enclose and concentrate the pestilence of the lakes and  
marshes.  
"In some parts the water is brackish, and lies lower than the  
sea: in others it oozes full of tartar from beds oftravertine. At  
the bottom or on the sides of hills are a multitude of hot  
springs, which form pools, called Lagoni.  
A few of these are said to produce borax: some, which are called  
fumache, exhale sulphur; others, called bulicami, boil with a  
mephitic gas. The very air above is only a pool of vapors, which  
sometimes undulate, but seldom flow off. It draws corruption from  
a rank, unshorn, rotting vegetation, from reptiles and fish both  
living and dead.  
"All nature conspires to drive man away from this fatal region;  
but man will ever return to his bane, if it be well baited. The  
Casentine peasants still migrate hither in the winter to feed  
their cattle: and here they sow corn, make charcoal, saw wood,  
cut hoops, and peel cork. When summer returns they decamp, but  
often too late; for many leave their corpses on the road, or  
bring home the Maremmian disease."

11\. Aeneid, III., Davidson's Tr.:-  
"The shores of the Strophades first receive me rescued from the  
waves. The Strophades, so called by a Greek name, are islands  
situated in the great Ionian Sea; which direful Celaeno and the  
other Harpies inhabit, from what time Phineus' palace was closed  
against them, and they were frightened from his table, which they  
formerly haunted. No monster more fell than they, no plague and  
scourge of the gods more cruel, ever issued from the Stygian  
waves. They are fowls with virgin faces, most loathsome is their  
bodily discharge, hands hooked, and looks ever pale with famine.  
Hither conveyed, as soon as we entered the port, lo! we observe  
joyous herds of cattle roving up and down the plains, and flocks  
of goats along the meadows without a keeper. We rush upon them  
with our swords, and invoke the gods and Jove himself to share  
the booty. Then along the winding shore we raise the couches, and  
feast on the rich repast. But suddenly, with direful swoop, the  
Harpies are upon us from the mountains, shake their wings with  
loud din, prey upon our banquet, and defile everything with their  
touch: at the same time, together with a rank smell, hideous  
screams arise."

21\. His words in the Aeneid, III., Davidson's Tr.:-  
"Near at hand there chanced to be a rising ground, on whose top  
were young cornel-trees, and a myrtle rough with thick, spear-  
like branches. I came up to it, and attempting to tear from the  
earth the verdant wood, that I might cover the altars with the  
leafy boughs, I observe a dreadful prodigy, and wondrous to  
relate. For from that tree which first is torn from the soil, its  
rooted fibres being burst asunder, drops of black blood distil,  
and stain the ground with gore: cold terror shakes my limbs, and  
my chill blood is congealed with fear. I again essay to tear off  
a limber bough from another, and thoroughly explore the latent  
cause: and from the rind of that other the purple blood descends.  
Raising in my mind many an anxious thought, I with reverence  
besought the rural nymphs, and father Mars, who presides over the  
Thracian territories, kindly to prosper the vision and avert evil  
from the omen. But when I attempted the boughs a third time with  
a more vigorous effort, and on my knees struggled against the  
opposing mould, (shall I speak, or shall I forbear?) a piteous  
groan is heard from the bottom of the rising ground, and a voice  
sent forth reaches my ears: `Aeneas, why dost thou tear an  
unhappy wretch? Spare me, now that I am in my grave; forbear to  
pollute with guilt thy pious hands: Troy brought me forth no  
stranger to you; nor is it from the trunk this blood distils.'"

40\. Chaucer, Knightes Tale, 2339:-

"And as it queinte, it made a whisteling  
As don these brondes wet in hir brenning,  
And at the brondes ende outran anon  
As it were blody dropes many on."

See also Spenser, Faerie Queene, I. ii. 30.

58\. Pietro della Vigna, Chancellor of the Emperor Frederick II.  
Napier's account of him is as follows, Florentine History, I.  
197- "The fate of his friend and minister, Piero delle Vigne of  
Capua, if truly told, would nevertheless impress us with an  
unfavorable idea of his mercy and magnanimity: Piero was sent  
with Taddeo di Sessa as Frederick's advocate and representative  
to the Council of Lyons, which was assembled by his friend  
Innocent the Fourth, nominally to reform the Church, but really  
to impart more force and solemnity to a fresh sentence of  
excommunication and deposition. There Taddeo spoke with force and  
boldness for his master; but Piero was silent; and hence he was  
accused of being, like several others, bribed by the Pope, not  
only to desert the Emperor, but to attempt his life; and whether  
he were really culpable, or the victim of court intrigue, is  
still doubtful. Frederick, on apparently good evidence, condemned  
him to have his eyes burned out, and the sentence was executed at  
San Miniato al Tedesco: being afterwards sent on horseback to  
Pisa, where he was hated, as an object for popular derison, he  
died, as is conjectured, from the effects of a fall while thus  
cruelly exposed, and not by his own hand, as Dante believed and  
sung."  
Milman, Latin Christianity, V. 499, gives the story thus:-  
"Peter de Vine#a had been raised by the wise choice of Frederick  
to the highest rank and influence. All the acts of Frederick were  
attributed to his Chancellor. De Vine#a, like his master, was a  
poet; he was one of the counsellors in his great scheme of  
legislation. Some rumors spread abroad that at the Council of  
Lyons, though Frederick had forbidden all his representatives  
from holding private intercourse with the Pope, De Vine#a had  
many secret conferences with Innocent, and was accused of  
betraying his master's interests. Yet there was no seeming  
diminution in the trust placed in De Vine#a. Still, to the end  
the Emperor's letters concerning the disaster at Parma are by the  
same hand. Over the cause of his disgrace and death, even in his  
own day, there was deep doubt and obscurity. The popular rumor  
ran that Frederick was ill; the physician of De Vine#a prescribed  
for him; the Emperor having received some warning, addressed De  
Vine#a: `My friend, in thee I have full trust; art thou sure that  
this is medicine, not poison?' De Vine#a replied: `How often has  
my physician ministered healthful medicines!-why are you now  
afraid?' Frederick took the cup, sternly commanded the physician  
to drink half of it. The physician threw himself at the King's  
feet, and, he fell, overthrew the liquor. But what was left was  
administered to some criminals, who died in agony. The Emperor  
wrung his hands and wept bitterly: `Whom can I now trust,  
betrayed by my own familiar friend? Never can I know security,  
never can I know joy more.' By one account Peter de Vine#a was  
led ignominiously on an ass through Pisa, and thrown into prison,  
where he dashed his brains out against the wall. Dante's immortal  
verse has saved the fame of De Vine#a: according to the poet he  
was the victim of wicked and calumnious jealousy."  
See also Giuseppe de Blasiis, Vita et Opere di Pietro della  
Vigna.

112\. Iliad, XII. 146: "Like two wild boars, which catch the  
coming tumult of men and dogs in the mountains, and, advancing  
obliquely to the attack, break down the wood about them, cutting  
it off at the roots."  
Chaucer, Legende of Goode Women:-

Envie ys lavendere of the court alway;  
For she ne parteth neither nyght ne day  
Out of the house of Cesar, thus saith Daunte."

120\. "Lano," says Boccaccio, Comento, "was young gentleman of  
Siena, who had a large patrimony, and associating himself with a  
club of other young Sienese, called the Spendthrift Club, they also  
being all rich, together with them, not spending but squandering, in  
a short time he consumed all that he had and became very poor. "  
Joining some Florentine troops sent out against the Aretines, he  
was in a skirmish at the parish of Toppo, which Dante calls a  
joust; "and notwithstanding he might have saved himself,"  
continues Boccaccio, "remembering his wretched condition, and it  
seeming to him a grievous thing to bear poverty, as he had been  
very rich, he rushed into the thick of the enemy and was slain,  
as perhaps he desired to be."

125\. Some commentators interpret these dogs as poverty and  
despair, still pursuing their victims. The Ottimo Comento calls  
them "poor men who, to follow pleasure and the kitchens of other  
people, abandoned their homes and families, and are therefore  
transformed into hunting dogs, and pursue and devour their masters."

133\. Jacopo da St. Andrea was a Paduan of like character and life  
as Lano. "Among his other squanderings," says the Ottimo Comento,  
"it is said that, wishing to see a grand and beautiful fire, he had one  
of his own villas burned."

143\. Florence was first under the protection of the god Mars;  
afterwards under that of St. John the Baptist. But in Dante's  
time the statue of Mars was still standing on a column at the  
head of the Ponte Vecchio. It was over thrown by an inundation of  
the Arno in 1333. See Canto XV. Note 62.

149\. Florence was destroyed by Totila in 450, and never by  
Attila. In Dante's time the two seem to have been pretty generally  
confounded. The Ottimo Comento remarks upon this point, "Some say  
that Totila was one person and Attila another; and some say that  
he was one and the same man."

150\. Dante does not mention the name of this suicide; Boccaccio  
thinks, for one of two reasons; "either out of regard of his  
surviving relatives, who peradventure are honorable men, and  
therefore he did not wish to stain them with the infamy of so  
dishonest a death, or else (as in those times, as if by a  
malediction sent by God upon our city, many hanged themselves)  
that each one might apply it to either he pleased of these many."

Canto 14

1\. In this third round of the seventh circle are punished the  
Violent against God,

"In heart denying and blaspheming him,  
And by disdaining Nature and her bounty."

15\. When he retreated across the Libyan desert with the remnant  
of Pompey's army after the battle of Pharsalia. Lucan, Pharsalia,  
Book IX.:-

"Foremost, behold, I lead you to the toil,  
My feet shall foremost print the dusty soil."

31\. Boccaccio confesses that he does not know where Dante found  
this tradition of Alexander. Benvenuto da Imola says it is a letter  
which Alexander wrote to Aristotle. He quotes the passage as  
follows: "In India ignited vapors fell from heaven like snow. I  
commanded my soldiers to trample them under foot."  
Dante perhaps took the incident from the old metrical Romance of  
Alexander, which in some form or other was current in his time.  
In the English version of it, published by the Roxburghe Club, we  
find the rain of fire, and a fall of snow; but it is the snow,  
and not the fire, and the soldiers trample down. So likewise in  
the French version. The English runs as follows, line 4164: -

"Than fandis he furth as I finde five and twenti days,  
Come to a velanus vale thare was a vile cheele,  
Quare flaggis of the fell snawe fell fra the heven,  
That was a brade, sais the buke, as battes ere of wolle.  
Than bett he many brigt fire and lest it bin nold,  
And made his folk with thaire feete as flores it to trede.  
Than fell ther fra the firmament as it ware fell sparkes,  
Ropand doune o rede fire, than any rayne thikir."

45\. Canto VIII. 83.

56\. Mount Etna, under which, with his Cyclops, Vulcan forged the  
thunderbolts of Jove.

63\. Capaneus was one of the seven kings who besieged Thebes.  
Euripides, Phoenissae, line 1188, thus describes his death:-

While o'er the battlements sprung Capaneus,  
Jove struck him with his thunder, and the earth  
Resounded with the crack; meanwhile mankind  
Stood all aghast; from off the ladder's height  
His limbs were far asunder hurled, his hair  
Flew to'ards Olympus, to the ground his blood,  
His hands and feet whirled like Ixion's wheel,  
And to the earth his flaming body fell."

Also Gower, Confes. Amant., I.:-

"As he the cite wolde assaile,  
God toke him selfe the bataile  
Ayen his pride, and fro the sky  
A firy thonder sudeinly  
He sende and him to pouder smote."

72\. Like Hawthorne's scarlet letter, at once an ornament and a  
punishment.

79\. The Bulicame or Hot Springs of Viterbo. Villani, Cronica,  
Book 1. Ch. 51, gives the following brief account of these springs,  
and of the origin of the name of Viterbo:-  
The city of Viterbo was built by the Romans, and in old times was  
called Vigezia, and the citizens Vigentians. And the Romans sent  
the sick there on account of the baths which flow from the  
Bulicame, and therefore it was called Vita Erbo, that is, life of  
the sick, or city of life."

80\. "The building thus appropriated", says Mr. Barlow,  
Contributions to the Study of the Divine Comedy, p. 129, "would  
appear to have been the large ruined edifice known as the Bagno  
di Ser Paolo Benigno, situated between the Bulicame and Viterbo.  
About half a mile beyond the Porta di Faule, which leads to  
Toscanella, we come to a way called Reillo, after which we arrive  
at the said ruined edifice, which received the water from the  
Bulicame by conduits, and has popularly been regarded as the  
Bagno delle Meretrici alluded to by Dante; there is no other  
building here found, which can dispute with it the claim to this  
distinction."

102\. The shouts and cymbals of the Corybantes, drowning the cries  
of the infant Jove, lest Saturn should find him and devour him.

103\. The statue of Time, turning its back upon the East and  
looking towards Rome. Compare Daniel ii. 31.

105\. The Ages of Gold, Silver, Brass, and Iron. See Ovid,  
Metamorph. I. See also Don Quixote's discourse to the goatherds,  
inspired by the acorns they gave him, Book II. Chap. 3; and  
Tasso's Ode to the Golden Age, in the Aminta.

113\. The Tears of Time, forming the infernal rivers that flow  
into Cocytus.

Milton, Parad. Lost, II. 577:-

"Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate;  
Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep;  
Cocytus, named of lamentation loud  
Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegeton,  
Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage.  
Far off from these a slow and silent stream,  
Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks  
Forthwith his former state and being forgets,  
Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain."

136\. See Purgatorio XXVIII.

Canto 15

1\. In this Canto is described the punishment of the Violent  
against Nature;-

"And for this reason does the smallest round  
Seal with its signet Sodom and Cahors."

4\. Guizzante is not Ghent, but Cadsand, an island opposite  
L'Ecluse, where the great canal of Bruges enters the sea. A canal thus  
flowing into the sea, the dikes on either margin uniting with the  
sea-dikes, gives a perfect image of this part of the Inferno.  
Lodovico Guicciardini in his Descrittione di tutti i Paesi Bassi  
(1581), p. 416, speaking of Cadsand, says: "This is the very  
place of which our great poet Dante makes mention in the  
fifteenth chapter of the Inferno, calling it incorrectly, perhaps  
by error of the press, Guizzante; where still at the present day  
great repairs are continually made upon the dikes, because here,  
and in the environs towards Bruges, the flood, or I should rather  
say the tide, on account of the situation and lowness of the  
land, has very great power, particularly during a northwest  
wind."

5\. These lines recall Goldsmith's description in the Traveller:- -

"Methinks her patient sons before me stand,  
Where the broad ocean leans against the land,  
And, sedulous to stop the coming tide,  
Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride.  
Onward, methinks, and diligently slow  
The firm connected bulwark seems to grow;  
Spreads its long arms amidst the watery roar,  
Scoops out an empire and usurps the shore."

9\. That part of the Alps in which the Brenta rises.

29\. The reading la mia seems preferable to la mano, and is  
justified by line 45.

30\. Brunetto Latini, Dante's friend and teacher. Villani thus  
speaks of him, Cronica, VIII. 10: "In this year 1294 died in  
Florence a worthy citizen, whose name was Ser Brunetto Latini,  
who was a great philosopher and perfect master of rhetoric, both in  
speaking and in writing. He commented the Rhetoric of Tully, and  
made the good and useful book called the Tesoro, and the  
Tesoretto, and the Keys of the Tesoro, and many other books of  
philosophy, and of vices and of virtues, and he was Secretary of  
our Commune. He was a worldly man, but we have made mention of  
him because he was the first master in refining the Florentines,  
and in teaching them how to speak correctly, and how to guide and  
govern our Republic on political principles."  
Boccaccio, Comento, speaks of him thus: "This Ser Brunetto Latini  
was a Florentine, and a very able man in some of the liberal  
arts, and in philosophy; but his principal calling was that of  
Notary; and he held himself and his calling in such great esteem,  
that, having made a mistake in a contract drawn up by him, and  
having been in consequence accused of fraud, he preferred to be  
condemned for it rather than to confess that he had made a  
mistake; and afterwards he quitted Florence in disdain, and  
leaving in memory of himself a book composed by him, called the  
Tesoretto, he went to Paris and lived there a long time, and  
composed a book there which is in French, and in which he treats  
of many matters regarding the liberal arts, and moral and natural  
philosophy, and metaphysics, which he called the Tesoro; and  
finally, I believe, he died in Paris."  
He also wrote a short poem, called the Favoletto, and perhaps the  
Pataffio, a satirical poem in the Florentine dialect, "a jargon,  
" says Nardini, "which cannot be understood even with a  
commentary. " But his fame rests upon the Tesoretto and the  
Tesoro, and more than all upon the fact that he was Dante's  
teacher, and was put by him into a very disreputable place in the  
Inferno. He died in Florence, not in Paris, as Boccaccio  
supposes, and was buried in Santa Maria Novella, where his tomb  
still exists. It is strange than Boccaccio should not have known  
this, as it was in this church that the "seven young gentlewomen"  
of his Decameron met "on a Tuesday morning," and resolved to go  
together into the country, where they "might hear the birds sing,  
and see the verdure of the hills and plains, and the fields full  
of grain undulating like the sea. "  
The poem of the Tesoretto, written in a jingling metre, which  
reminds one of the Vision of Piers Ploughman, is itself a Vision,  
with the customary allegorical personages of the Virtues and  
Vices. Ser Brunetto, returning from an embassy to King Alphonso  
of Spain, meets on the plain of Roncesvalles a student of  
Bologna, riding on a day mule, who informs him that the Guelfs  
have been banished from Florence. Whereupon Ser Brunetto, plunged  
in meditation and sorrow, loses the highroad and wanders in a  
wondrous forest. Here he discovers the august and gigantic figure  
of Nature, who relates to him the creation of the world, and  
gives him a banner to protect him on his pilgrimage through the  
forest, in which he meets with no adventures, but with the  
Virtues and Vices, Philosophy, Fortune, Ovid, and the God of  
Love, and sundry other characters, which are sung at large  
through eight or ten chapters. He then emerges from the forest,  
and confesses himself to the monks of Montpellier; after which he  
goes back into the forest again, and suddenly finds himself on  
the summit of Olympus; and the poem abruptly leaves his  
discoursing about the elements with Ptolemy,

"Mastro di storlomia  
E di filosofia."

It has been supposed by some commentators that Dante was indebted  
to the Tesoretto for the first idea of the Commedia. "If any one  
is pleased to imagine this," says the Abbate Zannoni in the  
Preface to his edition of the Tesoretto, (Florence, 1824,) "he  
must confess that a slight and almost invisible spark served to  
kindle a vast conflagration." The Tesoro, which is written in  
French, is a much more ponderous and pretentious volume. Hitherto  
it has been known only in manuscript, or in the Italian  
translation of Giamboni, but at length appears as one of the  
volumes of the Collection de Documents inedits sur l'Histoire de  
France, under the title of Li Livres dou Tresor, edited by P.  
Chabaille, Paris, 1863; a stately quarto of some seven hundred  
pages, which it would assuage the fiery torment of Ser Brunetto  
to look upon, and justify him in saying

"Commended unto thee be my Tesoro,  
In which I still live, and no more I ask."

The work is quaint and curious, but mainly interesting as being  
written by Dante's schoolmaster, and showing what he knew and  
what he taught his pupil. I cannot better describe it than in the  
author's own words, Book I. ch. I:-  
"The smallest part of this Treasure is like unto ready money, to  
be expended daily in things needful; that is, it treats of the  
beginning of time, of the antiquity of old histories, of the  
creation of the world, and in fine of the nature of all  
things...  
"The second part, which treats of the vices and virtues, is of  
precious stones, which give unto man delight and virtue; that is  
to say, what things a man should do, and what he should not, and  
shows the reason why...  
"The third part of the Treasure is of fine gold; that is to say,  
it teaches a man to speak according to the rules of rhetoric, and  
how a ruler ought to govern those beneath him...  
"And I say not that this book is extracted from my own poor sense  
and my own naked knowledge, but, on the contrary, it is like a  
honeycomb gathered from diverse flowers; for this book is wholly  
compiled from the wonderful sayings of the authors who before our  
time have treated of philosophy, each one according to his  
knowledge. ...  
"And if any one should ask why this book is written in Romance,  
according to the languages of the French, since we are Italian, I  
should say it is for two reasons; one, because we are in France,  
and the other, because this speech is more delectable, and more  
common to all people."

62\. "Afterwards," says Brunetto Latini, Tresor, Book I. Pt. I. ch. 37,  
"the Romans besieged Fiesole, till at last they conquered it  
and brought it into subjection. Then they built upon the plain,  
which is at the foot of the high rocks on which that city stood,  
another city, that is now called Florence. And know that the spot  
of ground where Florence stands was formerly called the House of  
Mars, that is to say the House of War; for Mars, who is one of  
the seven planets, is called the God of War, and as such was  
worshipped of old. Therefore it is no wonder that the Florentines  
are always in war and in discord, for that planet reigns over  
them. Of this Master Brunez Latins ought to know the truth, for  
he was born there, and was in exile on account of war with the  
Florentines, when he composed this book." See also Villani, I.  
38, who assigns a different reason for the Florentine dissensions.  
"And observe, that if the Florentines are always in war and dissension  
among themselves it is not to be wondered at, they being descended  
from two nations so contrary and hostile and different in customs,  
as were the noble and virtuous Romans and the rude and warlike  
Fiesolans."  
Again, IV. 7, he attributes the Florentine dissensions to both  
the above-mentioned causes.

67\. Villani, IV. 31, tells the story of certain columns of  
porphyry given by the Pisans to the Florentines for guarding their city  
while the Pisan army had gone to the conquest of Majorca. The  
columns were cracked by fire, but being covered with crimson  
cloth, the Florentines did not perceive it. Boccaccio repeats the  
story with variations, but does not think it a sufficient reason  
for calling the Florentines blind, and confesses that he does not  
know what reason there can be for so calling them.

89\. The "other text" is the prediction of his banishment, Canto X.  
81, and the Lady is Beatrice.

96\. Boileau, Epitre, V.:-

"Qu'a son gre desormais la fortune me joue,  
On me verra dormir au branle de sa roue."

And Tennyson's Song of "Fortune and her Wheel":-

"Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud;  
Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud;  
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.  
"Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown;  
With that wild wheel we go not up or down;  
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.  
"Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands;  
Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands;  
For man is man and master of his fate.  
"Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd;  
Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud;  
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate."

109\. Priscian, the grammarian of Constantinople in the sixth  
century.

110\. Francesco d'Accorso, a distinguished jurist and Professor at  
Bologna in the thirteenth century, celebrated for his Commentary  
upon the Code Justinian.

113\. Andrea de' Mozzi, Bishop of Florence, transferred by the  
Pope, the "Servant of Servants," to Vicenza; the two cities being here  
designated by the rivers on which they are respectively situated.

119\. See Note 30.

122\. The Corsa del Pallio, or foot races, at Verona; in which a  
green mantle, or Pallio, was the prize. Buttura says that these foot-  
races are still continued (1823), and that he has seen them more  
than once; but certainly not in the nude state in which Boccaccio  
describes them, and which renders Dante's comparison more  
complete and striking.

Canto 16

1\. In this Canto the subject of the preceding is continued.

4\. Guidoguerra, Tegghiajo Aldobrandi, and Jacopo Rusticucci.

37\. The good Gualdrada was a daughter of Bellincion Berti, the  
simple citizen of Florence in the olden time, who used to walk the  
streets "begirt with bone and leather," as mentioned in the  
Paradiso, XV. 112. Villani, I. 37, reports a story of her with  
all the brevity of a chronicler. Boccaccio tells the same story,  
as if he were writing a page of the Decameron. In his version it  
runs as follows.  
"The Emperor Otho IV., being by chance in Florence and having  
gone to the festival of St. John, to make it more gay with his  
presence, it happened that to the church with the other city  
dames, as our custom is, came the wife of Messer Berto, and  
brought with her a daughter of hers called Gualdrada, who was  
still unmarried. And as they sat there with the others, the  
maiden being beautiful in face and figure, nearly all present  
turned round to look at her, and among the rest the Emperor. And  
having much commended her beauty and manners, he asked Messer  
Berto, who was near him, who she was. To which Messer Berto  
smiling answered: `She is the daughter of one who, I dare say,  
would let you kiss her if you wished.' These words the young lady  
heard, being near the speaker; and somewhat troubled by the  
opinion her father seemed to have of her, that, if he wished it,  
she would suffer herself to be kissed by any one in this free  
way, rising, and looking a moment at her father, and blushing  
with shame, said: `Father, do not make such courteous promises at  
the expense of my modesty, for certainly, unless by violence, no  
one shall ever kiss me, except him whom you shall give me as my  
husband.' The Emperor, on hearing this, much commended the words  
and the young lady... And calling forward a noble youth named  
Guido Beisangue, who was afterwards called Guido the Elder, who  
as yet had no wife, he insisted upon his marrying her; and gave  
him as her dowry a large territory in Cassentino and the Alps,  
and made him Count thereof." Amp ere says in his Voyage  
Dantesque, page 242: "Near the battle-field of Campaldino stands  
the little town of Poppi, whose castle was built in 1230 by the  
father of the Arnolfo who built some years later the Palazzo  
Vecchio of Florence. In this castle is still shown the bedroom of  
the beautiful and modest Gualdrada." Francesco Sansovino, an  
Italian novelist of the sixteenth century, has made Gualdrada the  
heroine of one of his tales, but has strangely perverted the old  
tradition. His story may be found in Roscoe's Italian Novelists,  
III. p. 107.

41\. Tegghiajo Aldobrandi was a distinguished citizen of Florence,  
and opposed what Malespini calls "the ill counsel of the people, "  
that war should be declared against the Sienese, which war  
resulted in the battle of Monte Aperto and the defeat of the  
Florentines.

44\. Jacopo Rusticucci was a rich Florentine gentleman, whose  
chief misfortune seems to have been an ill-assorted marriage.  
Whereupon the amiable Boccaccio in his usual Decameron style  
remarks: "Men ought not then to be over-hasty in getting married;  
on the contrary, they should come to it with much precaution."  
And then he indulges in five octavo pages against matrimony and  
woman in general.

45\. See Macchiavelli's story of Belfagor, wherein Minos and  
Rhadamanthus, and the rest of the infernal judges, are greatly  
surprised to hear an infinite number of condemned souls "lament  
nothing so bitterly as their folly in having taken wives,  
attributing to them the whole of their misfortune."

70\. Boccaccio, in his Comento, speaks of Guglielmo Borsiere as "a  
courteous gentleman of good breeding and excellent manners"; and  
in the Decameron, Gior. I. Nov.8, tells of a sharp rebuke  
administered by him to Messer Ermino de' Grimaldi, a miser of  
Genoa.  
"It came to pass, that whilst by spending nothing he went on  
accumulating wealth, there came to Genoa a well-bred and witty  
gentleman called Gulielmo Borsiere, one nothing like the  
courtiers of the present day; who, to the great reproach of the  
debauched dispositions of such as would now be reputed fine  
gentlemen, should more properly style themselves asses, brought  
up amidst the filthiness and sink of mankind, rather than in  
courts...  
"This Gulielmo, whom I before mentioned, was much visited and  
respected by the better sort of people at Genoa; when having made  
some stay here, and hearing much talk of Ermino's sordidness, he  
became desirous of seeing him. Now Ermino had been informed of  
Gulielmo's worthy character, and having, however covetous he was,  
some small sparks of gentility, he received him in a courteous  
manner, and, entering into discourse together, he took him, and  
some Genoese who came along with him, to see a fine house which  
he had lately built: and when he had showed every part of it, he  
said: `Pray, sir, can you, who have heard and seen so much, tell  
me of something that was never yet seen, to have painted in my  
hall?' To whom Gulielmo, hearing him speak so simply, replied:  
`Sir, I can tell you of nothing which has never yet been seen,  
that I know of; unless it be sneezing, or some thing of that  
sort; but if you please, I can tell you of a thing which, I  
believe, you never saw.' Said Ermino (little expecting such an  
answer as he received), `I beg you would let me know what that  
is.' Gulielmo immediately replied, `Paint Liberality.' When  
Ermino heard this, such a sudden shame seized him, as quite  
changed his temper from what it had hitherto been; and he said:  
`Sir, I will have her painted in such a manner that neither you,  
nor any one else, shall be able to say, hereafter, that I am  
unacquainted with her.' And from that time such effect had  
Gulielmo's words upon him, he became the most liberal and  
courteous gentleman, and was the most respected, both by  
strangers and his own citizens, of any in Genoa."

95\. Monte Veso is among the Alps, between Piedmont and Savoy,  
where the Po takes its rise. From this point eastward to the Adriatic,  
all the rivers on the left or northern slope of the Apennines are  
tributaries to the Po, until we come to the Montone, which above  
Forl i is called Acquacheta. This is the first which flows  
directly into the Adriatic, and not into the Po. At least it was  
so in Dante's time. Now, by some change in its course, the  
Lamone, farther north, has opened itself a new outlet, and is the  
first to make its own way to the Adriatic. See Barlow,  
Contributions to the Study of the Divine Comedy, p. 131. This  
Comparison shows the delight which Dante took in the study of  
physical geography. To reach the waterfall of Acquacheta he  
traverses in thought the entire valley to the Po, stretching  
across the whole of Northern Italy.

102\. Boccaccio's interpretation of this line, which has been  
adopted by most of the commentators since his time, is as follows:  
"I was for a long time in doubt concerning the author's meaning in  
this line; but being by chance at this monastery of San Benedetto,  
in company with the abbot, he told me that there had once been a  
discussion among the Counts who owned the mountain, about  
building a village near the waterfall, as a convenient place for  
a settlement, and bringing into it their vassals scattered on  
neighboring farms; but the leader of the project dying, it was  
not carried into effect; and that is what the author says, Ove  
dovea per mille, that is, for many, esser ricetto, that is home  
and habitation."  
Doubtless grammatically the words will bear this meaning. But  
evidently the idea in the author's mind, and which he wished to  
impress upon the reader's, was that of a waterfall plunging at a  
single leap down a high precipice. To this idea, the suggestion  
of buildings and inhabitants is wholly foreign, and adds neither  
force nor clearness. Whereas, to say that the river plunged at  
once bound over a precipice high enough for a thousand cascades,  
presents at one a vivid picture to the imagination, and I have  
interpreted the line accordingly, making the contrast between una  
scesa and mille. It should not be forgotten that, while some  
editions read dovea, others read dovria, and even potria.

106\. This cord has puzzled the commentators exceedingly.  
Boccaccio, Volpi, and Venturi, do not explain it. The anonymous  
author of the Ottimo, Benvenuto da Imola, Buti, Landino, Vellutello,  
and Daniello, all think it means fraud, which Dante had used in the  
pursuit of pleasure,-  
"the panther with the painted skin." Lombardi is of opinion that,  
"by girding himself with the Franciscan cord, he had endeavored  
to restrain his sensual appetites, indicated by the panther; and  
still wearing the cord as a Tertiary of the Order, he makes it  
serve here to deceive Geryon, and bring him up." Biagioli  
understands by it "the humility with which a man should approach  
Science, because it is she that humbles the proud." Fraticelli  
thinks it means vigilance; Tommaseo, "the good faith with which  
he hoped to win the Florentines, and now wishes to deal with  
their fraud, so that it may not harm him"; and Gabrielli Rossetti  
says, "Dante flattered himself, acting as a sincere Ghibelline,  
that he should meet with good faith from his Guelf countrymen,  
and met instead with horrible fraud."  
Dante elsewhere speaks of the cord in a good sense. In  
Purgatorio, VII.114, Peter of Aragon is "girt with the cord of  
every virtue. " In Inferno, XXVII. 92, it is mortification, "the  
cord that used to make those girt with it more meagre"; and in  
Paradiso, XI. 87, it is humility, "that family which had already  
girt the humble cord."  
It will be remembered that St. Francis, the founder of the  
Cordeliers (the wearers of the cord), used to call his body  
asino, or ass, and to subdue it with the capestro, or halter.  
Thus the cord is made to symbolize the subjugation of the animal  
nature. This renders Lombardi's interpretation the most  
intelligible and satisfactory, though Virgil seems to have thrown  
the cord into the abyss simply because he had nothing else tothrow, and not with the design of deceiving.

112\. As a man does naturally in the act of throwing.

131\. That Geryon, seeing the cord, ascends, expecting to find  
some moine defroque, and carry him down, as Lombardi suggests, is  
hardly admissible; for that was not his office. The spirits were  
hurled down to their appointed places, as soon as Minos doomed  
them. Inferno, V.15.

132\. Even to a steadfast heart.

Canto 17

1\. In this Canto is described the punishment of Usurers, as  
sinners against Nature and Art. See Inf. XI. 109:-

"And since the usurer takes another way,  
Nature herself in her follower  
Disdains he, for elsewhere he puts his hope."

The Monster Geryon, here used as the symbol of Fraud, was born of  
Chrysaor and Callirrhoe, and is generally represented by the  
poets as having three bodies and three heads. He was in ancient  
times King of Hesperia or Spain, living on Erytheia, the Red  
Island of sunset, and was slain by Hercules, who drove away his  
beautiful oxen. The nimble fancy of Hawthorne thus depicts him in  
his Wonder- Book, p. 148:-  
"But it was really and truly an old man? Certainly at first sight  
it looked very like one; but on closer inspection, it rather  
seemed to be some kind of a creature that lived in the sea. For  
on his legs and arms there were scales, such as fishes have; he  
was web-footed and web-fingered, after the fashion of a duck; and  
his long beard, being of a greenish tinge, had more the  
appearance of a tuft of sea-weed than of an ordinary beard. Have  
you never seen a stick of timber, that has been long tossed about  
by the waves, and has got all overgrown with barnacles, and at  
last, drifting ashore, seems to have been thrown up from the very  
deepest bottom of the sea? Well, the old man would have put you  
in mind of just such a wave-tost spar."  
The three bodies and three heads, which old poetic fable has  
given to the monster Geryon, are interpreted by modern prose as  
meaning the three Balearic Islands, Majorca, Minorca, and Ivica,  
over which he reigned.

10\. Ariosto, Orlando Furioso, XIV. 87, Rose's Tr., thus depicts  
Fraud: -

"With pleasing mien, grave walk, and decent vest,  
Fraud rolled her eyeballs humbly in her head;  
And such benign and modest speech possest,  
She might a Gabriel seem who Ave said.  
Foul was she and deformed in all the rest;  
But with a mantle, long and widely spread,  
Concealed her hideous parts; and evermore  
Beneath the stole a poisoned dagger wore."

The Gabriel saying Ave is from Dante, Purgatory, X. 40:-  
"One would have sworn that he was saying Ave."

17\. Tartars nor Turks, "Who are most perfect masters therein,"  
says Boccaccio, "as we can clearly see in Tartarian cloths, which  
truly are so skilfully woven, that no painter with his brush  
could equal, much less surpass them. The Tartars are..." And  
with this unfinished sentence close the Lectures upon Dante,  
begun by Giovanni Boccaccio on Sunday, August 9, 1373, in the  
church of San Stefano, in Florence. That there were some critics  
among his audience is apparent from this sonnet, which he  
addressed "to one who had censured his public Exposition of  
Dante." See D. G. Rosetti, Early Italian Poets, p. 447:-

"If Dante mourns, there wheresoe'er he be,  
That such high fancies of a soul so proud  
Should be laid open to the vulgar crowd,  
(As, touching my Discourse, I'm told by thee,)  
This were my grevious pain; and certainly  
My proper blame shoud not be disavowed;  
Though hereof somewhat, I declare aloud,  
Where due to others, not alone to me.  
False hopes, true poverty, and therewithal  
The blinded judgement of a host of friends,  
And their enteaties, made that I did thus.  
But of all this there is no gain at all  
Unto the thankless souls with whose base ends  
Nothing agrees that's great or generous."

18\. Ovid, Metamorph. VI.:-

"One at the loom so excellently skilled  
That to the Goddess she refused to yield."

57\. Their love of gold still haunting them in the other world.

59\. The arms of the Gianfigliacci of Florence.

63\. The arms of the Ubbriachi of Florence.

64\. The Scrovigni of Padua.

68\. Vitaliano del Dente of Padua.

73\. Giovanni Bujamonte, who seems to have had the ill-repute of  
being the greatest usurer of his day, called here in irony the  
"soverign cavalier."

74\. As the ass-driver did in the streets of Florence, when Dante  
beat him for singing his verses amiss. See Sachetti, Nov. CXV.

78\. Dante makes as short work with these usurers, as if he had  
been a curious traveller walking through the Ghetto of Rome, or the  
Judengasse of Frankfort.

107\. Ovid, Metamorph. II., Addison's Tr.:-

"Half dead with sudden fear he dropt the reins;  
The horses felt `em loose upon their manes,  
And, flying out through all the plains above,  
Ran uncontrolled where-er their fury drove;  
Rushed on the stars, and through a pathless way  
Of unknown regions hurried on the day.  
And now above, and now below they flew,  
And near the earth the burning chariot drew.

At once from life and from the chariot driv'n,  
Th' ambitious boy fell thunder-struck from heav'n.  
The horses started with a sudden bound,  
And flung the reins and chariot to the ground:  
The studden harness from their necks they broke,  
Here fell a wheel, and here a silver spoke,  
Here were the beam and axle torn away;

And, scatter'd o'er the earth, the shining fragments lay. The  
breathless Phaeton, with flaming hair,  
Shot from the chariot, like a falling star,  
That in a summer's ev'ning from the top  
Of heav'n drops down, or seems at least to drop;  
Till on the Po his blasted corpse was hurled,  
Far from his counry, in the Western World."

108\. The Milky Way. In Spanish El camino de Santiago; in the  
Northern Mythology the pathway of the ghosts going to Valhalla.

109\. Ovid, Metamorph. VIII., Croxall's Tr.:-

"The soft'ning was, that felt a nearer sun,  
Dissolv'd apace, and soon began to run.  
The youth in vain his melting pinions shakes,  
His feathers gone, no longer air he takes.  
O father, father, as he strove to cry,  
Down to the sea he tumbled from on high,  
And found his fate; yet still subsists by fame,  
Among those waters that retain his name.  
The father, now no more a father, cries,  
Ho, Icarus! where are you? as he flies:  
Where shall I seek my boy? he cries again,  
And saw his feathers scattered on the main."

136\. Lucan, Pharsal. I.:-

"To him the Balearic sling is slow,  
And the shaft loiters from the Parthian bow."

Canto 18

1\. Here begins the third division of the Inferno, embracing the  
Eight and Ninth Circles, in which the Fraudulent are punished.

"But because fraud is man's peculiar vice  
More it displeases God; and so stand lowest  
The fraudulent, and greater dole assails them. "

The Eighth Circle is called Malebolge, or Evil-budgets, and  
consists of ten concentric ditches, or Bolge of stone, with dikes  
between, and rough bridges running across them to the centre like  
the spokes of a wheel. In the First Bolgia are punished Seducers,  
and in the Second, Flatterers.

2\. Mr. Ruskin, Modern Painters, III. p. 237, says:-  
"Our slates and granites are often of very lovely colors; but the  
Apennine limestone is so gray and toneless, that I know not any  
mountain district so utterly melancholy as those which are  
composed of this rock, when unwooded. Now, as far as I can  
discover from the internal evidence in his poem, nearly all  
Dante's mountain wanderings had been upon this ground. He had  
journeyed once or twice among the Alps, indeed, but seems to have  
been impressed chiefly by the road from Garda to Trent, and that  
along the Cornice, both of which are either upon those  
limestones, or a dark serpentine, which shows hardly any color  
till it is polished. It is not ascertainable that he had ever  
seen rock scenery of the finely colored kind, aided by the Alpine  
mosses: I do not know the fall at Forli (Inferno, XVI. 99), but  
every other scene to which he alludes is among these Apennine  
limestones; and when he wishes to give the idea of enormous  
mountain size, he names Tabernicch and Pietra- pana,-the one  
clearly chosen only for the sake of the last syllable of its  
name, in order to make a sound as of crackling ice, with the two  
sequent rhymes of the stanza,-  
and the other is an Apennine near Lucca.  
"His idea, therefore, of rock color, founded on these  
experiences, is that of a dull or ashen gray, more or less  
stained by the brown of iron ochre, precisely as the Apennine  
limestones nearly always are; the gray being peculiarly cold and  
disagreeable. As we go down the very hill which stretches out  
from Pietra-pana towards Lucca, the stones laid by the road-side  
to mend it are of this ashen gray, with efflorescences of  
manganese and iron in the fissures. The whole of Malebolge is  
made of this rock, `All wrought in stone of iron-colored grain.'"

29\. The year of Jubilee 1300. Mr. Norton, in his Notes of Travel  
and Study in Italy, p. 255, thus describes it:-  
"The beginning of the new century brought many pilgrims to the  
Papal city, and the Pope, seeing to what account the treasury of  
indulgences possessed by the Church might now be turned, hit upon  
the plan of promising plenary indulgence to all who, during the  
year, should visit with fit dispositions the holy places of Rome.  
He accordingly, in the most solemn manner, proclaimed a year of  
Julilee, to date from the Christmas of 1299, and appointed a  
similar celebration for each hundreth year thereafter. The report  
of the marvellous promise spread rapidly through Europe; and as  
the year advanced, pilgrims poured into Italy from remote as well  
as from neighbouring lands. The roads leading to Rome were dusty  
with bands of travellers pressing forward to gain the unwonted  
indulgence. The Crusades had made travel familiar to men, and a  
journey to Rome seemed easy to those who had dreamed of the  
Farther East, of Constantinople, and Jerusalem. Giovanni Villani,  
who was among the pilgrims from Florence, declares that there  
were never less than two hundred thousand strangers at Rome  
during the year; and Guglielmo Ventura, the chronicler of Asti,  
reports the total number of pilgrims at not less than two  
millions. The picture which he draws of Rome during the Jubilee  
is a curious one. ` Mirandum est quod passim ibant viri et  
mulieres, qui anno illo Romae fuerunt quo ego ibi fui et per  
dies xv. steti. De pane, vino, carnibus, piscibus, et avena,  
bonum mercatum ibi erat; foenum carissimum ibi fuit; hospitia  
carissima; taliter quod lectus meus et equi mei super faeno et  
avena constabat mihi tornesium unum grossum. Exiens de Roma in  
vigilia Nativitatis Christi, vidi turbam magnam, quam dinumerare  
nemo poterat; et fama erat inter Romanos, quod ibi fuerant  
plusquam vigenti centum millia virorum et mulierum. Pluries ego  
vidi ibi tam viros quam mulieres conculcatos sub pedibus aliorum;  
et etiam egomet in eodem periculo plures vices evasi. Papa  
innumerabilem pecuniam ab eisdem recepit, quia die ac nocte duo  
clerici stabant ad altare Sancti Pauli tenentes in eorum manibus  
rastellos, rastellantes pecuniam infinitam. ' To accommodate the  
throng of pilgrims, and to protect them as far as possible from  
the danger which Ventura feelingly describes, a barrier was  
erected along the middle of the bridge under the castle of Sant'  
Angelo, so that those goint to St. Peter's and those coming from  
the church, passing on opposite sides, might not interfere with  
each other. It seems not unlikely that Dante himself was one of  
the crowd who thus crossed the old bridge, over whose arches,  
during this year, a flood of men was flowing almost as constantly  
as the river's flood ran through below."

31\. The castle is the Castle of St. Angelo, and the mountain  
Monte Gianicolo. See Barlow, Study of Dante p. 126. Others say Monte  
Giordano.

50\. "This Caccinimico," says Benvenuto da Imola, "was a  
Bolognese; a liberal, noble, pleasant, and very powerful man."  
Nevertheless he was so utterly corrupt as to sell his sister,  
the fair Ghisola, to the Marquis of Este.

51\. In the original the word is salse. "In Bologna," says  
Benvenuto da Imola, "the name of Salse is given to a certain valley  
outside the city, and near to Santa Maria in Monte, into which the  
mortal  
remains of desperadoes, usurers, and other infamous persons are  
wont to be thrown. Hence I have sometimes heard boys in Bologna  
say to each other, by way of insult, `Your father was thrown into  
the Salse.'"

61\. The two rivers between which Bologna is situated. In the  
Bolognese dialect sipa is used for si.

72\. They cease going round the circles as heretofore, and now go  
straight forward to the centre of the abyss.

86\. For the story of Jason, Medea, and the Golden Fleece, see  
Ovid, Metamorph. VII. Also Chaucer, Legende of Goode Women :-

"Thou roote of fals loveres, duke Jason!  
Thou slye devourer and confusyon  
Of gentil wommen, gentil creatures!"

92\. When the women of Lemnos put to death all the male inhabitans  
of the island, Hypsipyle concealed her father Thaos, and spared his  
life. Apollonius Rhodius, Argonautics, II., Fawke's Tr.: -

"Hypsipyle alone, illustrious maid,  
Spared her sire Thaos, who the sceptre swayed."

122\. "Allessio Interminelli," says Benvenuto da Imola, "a  
soldier, a nobleman, and of gentle manners was of Lucca, and from his  
descended that tyrant Castruccio who filled all Tuscany with  
fear, and was lord of Pisa, Lucca, and Pistoja, of whom Dante  
makes no mention, because he became illustrious after the  
author's death. Alessio took such delight in flattery, that he  
could not open his mouth without flattering. He besmeared  
everybody, even the lowest menials. "  
The Ottimo says, that in the dialect of Lucca the head "was  
facetiously called a pumpkin."

133\. Thais, the famous courtesan of Athens. Terence, The Eunuch,  
Act III, Sc. I:-

"Thraso. Did Tha,is really return me many thanks?  
"Gnatho. Exceeding thanks.  
"Thraso. Was she delighted, say you?  
"Gnatho. Not so much, indeed, at the present itself, as because  
it was given by you; really, in right earnest, she does exult at  
that."

136\. "The filthiness of some passages," exclaims Landor,  
Pentameron,p. 15, "would disgrace the drunkenest horse-dealer;  
and the names of such criminals are recorded by the poet, as  
would be forgotten by the hangman in six months."

Canto 19

1\. The Third Bolgia is devoted to the Simoniacs, so called from  
Simon Magus, the Sorcerer mentioned in Acts viii. 9, 18. See Par.  
XXX. Note 147. Brunetto Latini touches lightly upon them in the  
Tesoretto, XXI. 259, on account of their high ecclesiastical  
dignity. His pupil is less reverential in this particular.

Altri per simonia  
Si getta in mala via,  
E Dio e' Santi offende  
E vende le prebende,  
E Sante Sagramente,  
E mette `nfra la gente  
Assempri di mal fare.  
Ma questo lascio stare,  
Che tocca a ta' persone,  
Che non e mia ragione  
Di dirne lungamente."

Chaucer, Persones Tale, speaks thus of Simony:-

"Certes simonie is cleped of Simon Magus, that wold have bought  
for temporel catel the yefte that God had yeven by the holy gost  
to Seint Peter, and to the Apostles: and therefore understond ye,  
that both he that selleth and he that byeth thinges spirituel ben  
called Simoniakes, be it by catel, be it by prcuring, or by  
fleshly praier of his frendes, fleshly frendes, or spirituel  
frendes, fleshly in two maners, as by kinrede or other frendes:  
sothly, if they pray for him that is not worthy and able, it is  
simonie, if he take the benefice: and if he be worthy and able,  
ther is non."

5\. Gower, Confes. Amant. I.:-

"A trompe with a sterne breth,  
Which was cleped the trompe of deth.  
He shall this dredfull trompe blowe  
To-fore his gate and make it knowe,  
How that the jugement is yive  
Of deth, which shall nought be foryive."

19\. Lami, in his Deliciae Eruditorum, makes a strange blunder in  
reference to this passage. He says: "Not long ago the baptismal  
font, which stood in the middle of Saint John's at Florence, was  
removed; and in the pavement may still be seen the octagonal  
shape of its ample outline. Dante says, that, when a boy, he fell  
into it and was near drowning; or rather he fell into one of the  
circular basins of water, which surrounded the principal font."  
Upon this Arrivabeni, Comento Storico, p. 588, where I find this  
extract, remarks: "Not Dante, but Lami, staring at the moon,  
fell into the hole. "

20\. Dante's enemies had accused him of committing this act  
through impiety. He takes this occasion to vindicate himself.

33\. Probably an allusion to the red stockings worn by the Popes.

50\. Burying alive with the head downward and the feet in the air  
was the inhuman punishment of hired assassins, "according to justice  
and the municipal law in Florence," says the Ottimo. It was  
called Propagginare, to plant in the manner of vine-stocks.  
Dante stood bowed down like the confessor called back by the  
criminal in order to delay the moment of his death.

53\. Benedetto Gaetani, Pope Boniface VIII. Gower, Conf. Amant.  
II. , calls him

"Thou Boneface, thou proude clerke,  
Misleder of the papacie."

This is the Boniface who frightened Celestine from the papacy,  
and persecuted him to death after his resignation. "The lovely  
Lady" is the Church. The fraud was his collusion with Charles II.  
of Naples."He went to King Charles by night, secretly, and with  
few attendants," says Villani, VIII. ch. 6, " and said to him:  
`King, thy Pope Celestine had the will and the power to serve  
thee in thy Sicilian wars, but did not know how: but if thou wilt  
contrive with thy friends the cardinals to have me elected Pope,  
I shall know how, and shall have the will and the power';  
promising upon his faith and oath to aid him with all the power  
of the Church. " Farther on he continues: "He was very  
magnanimous and lordly, and demanded great honor, and knew well  
how to maintain and advance the cause of the Church, and on  
account of his knowledge and power was much dreaded and feared.  
He was avaricious exceedingly in order to aggrandize the Church  
and his relations, not being over- scrupulous about gains, for he  
said that all things were lawful which were of the Church." He  
was chosen Pope in 1294. "The inauguration of Boniface," says  
Milman Latin Christ., Book IX., ch. 7, "was the most magnificent  
which Rome had ever beheld. In his procession to St. Peter's and  
back to the Lateran palace, where he was entertained, he rode not  
a humble ass, but a noble white horse, richly caparisoned: he had  
a crown on his head; the King of Naples held the bridle on one  
side, his son, the King of Hungary, on the other. The nobility of  
Rome, the Orsinis, the Colonnas, the Savellis, the Stefaneschi,  
the Annibaldi, who had not only welcomed him to Rome, but  
conferred on him the Senatorial dignity, followed in a body: the  
procession could hardly force its way through the masses of the  
kneeling people. In the midst, a furious hurricane burst over the  
city, and extinguished every lamp and torch in the church. A  
darker omen followed: a riot broke out among the populace, in  
which forty lives were lost. The day after, the Pope dined in  
public in the Lateran; the two Kings waited behind his chair."  
Dante indulges towards him a fierce Ghibelline hatred, and  
assigns him his place of torment before he is dead. In Canto  
XXVII. 85, he calls him "the Prince of the new Pharisees"; and,  
after many other bitter allusions in various parts of the poem,  
puts into the mouth of St. Peter, Par. XXVII.22, the terrible  
invective that makes the whole heavens red with anger.

"He who usurps upon the earth my place,  
My place, my place, which vacant has become  
Now in the presence of the Son of God,  
Has of my cemetery made a sewer  
Of blood and fetor, whereat the Perverse,  
Who fell from here, below there is appeased."

He died in 1303. See Note 87, Purg. XX.

70\. Nicholas III, of the Orsini (the Bears) of Rome, chosen Pope  
in 1277. "He was the first Pope, or one of the first," says  
Villani, VII. ch. 54, in whose court simony was openly practised."  
On account of his many accomplishments he was surnamed  
Il Compiuto. Milman, Lat. Christ., Book XI. ch. 4, says of him:  
"At length the election fell on John Gaetano, of the noble  
Roman house, the Orsini, a man of remarkable beauty of person  
and demeanor. His name, `the Accomplished,' implied that in him  
met all the graces of the handsomest clerks in the world, but he  
was a man likewise of irreproachable morals, of vast ambition,  
and of great ability." He died in 1280.

83\. The French Pope Clement V., elected in 1305, by the influence  
of Philip the Fair of France, with sundry humiliating conditions. He  
transferred the Papal See from Rome to Avignon, where it remained  
for seventy-one years in what Italian writers call its "Babylonian  
captivity."  
He died in 1314, on his way to Bordeaux. "He had hardly crossed the  
Rhone," says Milman, Lat. Christ., Book XII. ch. 5, "when he was  
seized with mortal sickness at Roquemaure. The Papal treasure was  
seized by his followers, especially his nephew; his remains were  
treated  
with such utter neglect, that the torches set fire to the catafalque  
under  
which he lay, not in a state. His body, covered only with a single  
sheet, all that his rapacious retinue had left to shroud their  
forgotten master, was half burned. ...before alarm was raised.  
His ashes were borne back to Carpentras and solemnly interered."

85\. Jason, to whom Antiochus Epiphanes granted a "license to set  
him up a place for exercise, and for the training up of youth in the  
fashions of the heathen."  
2 Maccabees iv. 13: "Now such was the height of Greek fashions,  
and increase of the heathenish manners, through the exceeding  
profaneness of Jason, that ungodly wretch and not high priest,  
that the priests had no courage to serve any more at the alter,  
but, despising the temple, and neglecting the sacrifices,  
hastened to be partakers of the unlawful allowance in the place  
of exercise, after the game of Discus called them forth."

87\. Philip the Fair of France. See Note 82."He was one of the  
handsomest men in the world," says Villani IX. 66, "and one of  
the largest in person, and well proportioned in every limb,-a  
wise and good man for a layman."

94\. Matthew, chosen as an Apostle in the place of Judas.

99\. According to Villani, VII. 54, Pope Nicholas III. wished to  
marry his niece to a nephew of Charles of Anjou, King of Sicily. To  
this alliance the King would not consent, saying :"Although he  
wears the red stockings, his lineage is not worthy to mingle with  
ours, and his power is not hereditary." This made the Pope  
indignant and, together with the bribes of John of Procida, led  
him to encourage the rebellion in Sicily, which broke out a year  
after the Pope's death in the "Sicilian Vespers," 1282.

107\. The Church of Rome under Nicholas, Boniface, and Clement.  
Revelation xvii. 1-3:-  
"And there came one of the seven angels which had the seven  
vials, and talked with me, saying unto me, Come hither; I will  
show unto thee the judgment of the great whore that sitteth upon  
many waters; with whom the kings of the earth have committed  
fornication, and the inhabitants of the earth have been made  
drunk with the wine of her fornication. So he carried me away in  
the Spirit into the wilderness: and I saw a woman sit upon a  
scarlet-colored beast, full of names of blasphemy, having seven  
heads and ten horns. "  
The seven heads are interpreted to mean the Seven Virtues, and  
the ten horns the Ten Commandments.

110\. |Revelation xvii. 12, 13:-And the ten horns which thou  
sawest are ten kings,...and shall give their power and strength unto  
the beast."

117\. Gower, Confes. Amant., Prologus:-

"The patrimonie and the richesse  
Which to Silvester in pure almesse  
the firste Constantinus lefte."

Upon this supposed donation of immense domains by Constantine to  
the Pope, called the "Patrimony of St. Peter," Milman, Lat.  
Christ., Book I. ch. 2, remarks:-  
"Silvester has become a kind of hero of religious fable. But it  
was not so much the genuine mythical spirit which unconsciously  
transmutes history into legend; it was rather deliberate  
invention, with a specific aim and design, which, in direct  
defiance of history, accelerated the baptism of Constantine, and  
sanctified a porphyry vessel as appropriated to, or connected  
with, that holy use: and at a later period produced the monstrous  
fable of the Donation. "But that with which Constantine actualy  
did invest the Church, the right of holding landed property, and  
receiving it by bequest, was far more valuable to the Christian  
hierarchy, and not least to the Bishop of Rome, than a premature  
and prodigal endowment."

Canto 20

1\. In the Fourth Bolgia are punished the Soothsayers:-

"Because they wished to see too far before them,  
Backward they look, and backward make their way."

9\. Processions chanting prayers and supplications.

13\. Ignaro in Spenser's Faerie Queene, I. viii. 31:-

"But very uncouth sight was to behold  
How he did fashion his untoward pace;  
For as he forward moved his footing old,  
So backward still was turned his wrinkled face."

34\. Amphiaraus was one of the seven kings against Thebes.  
Foreseeing his own fate, he concealed himself, to avoid going to  
the war; but his wife Eriphyle, bribed by a diamond necklace  
(as famous in ancient story as the Cardinal de Rohan's in modern),  
revealed his hiding-place, and he went to his doom with the others.  
Aeschylus, The Seven against Thebes:  
"I will tell of the sixth, a man most prudent and in valor the  
best, the seer, the mighty Amphiaraus... And through his mouth  
he gives utterance to this speech... `I, for my part, in very  
truth shall fatten this soil, seer as I am, buried beneath a  
hostile earth.'"  
Statius, Thebaid, VIII. 47, Lewis's Tr.:-

"Bought of my treacherous wife for cursed gold,  
And in the list of Argive chiefs enrolled,  
Resigned to fate I sought the Theban plain;  
Whence flock the shades that scarce thy realm contain;  
When, how my soul yet dreads! an earthquake came,  
Big with destruction, and my trembling frame,  
Rapt from the midst of gaping thousands, hurled  
To night eternal in thy nether world."

40\. The Theban soothsayer. Ovid, Met., III., Addison's Tr.:-

"It happen'd once, within a shady wood,  
Two twisted snakes he in conjunction view'd,  
When with his staff their slimy folds he broke,  
And lost his manhood at the fatal stroke.  
But, after seven revolving years, he view'd  
The self-same serpents in the self-same wood:  
`And if,' says he, `such virtue in you lie,  
That he who dares your slimy folds untie  
Must change his kind, a second stroke I'll try.'  
Again he struck the snakes, and stood again  
New-sex'd, and straight recovered into man...

When Juno fired,  
More than so trivial an affair required,  
Deprived him, in her fury, of his sight,  
And left him groping round in sudden night.  
But Jove (for so it is in heav'n decreed  
That no one god repeal another's deed)  
Irradiates all his soul with inward light,  
And with the prophet's art relieves the want of sight."

45\. His beard. The word "plumes" is used by old English writers  
in this sense. Ford, Lady's Trial:-

"Now the down of  
Of softness is exchanged for plumes of age."

See also Purg. I. 42.

46\. An Etrurian soothsayer. Lucan, Pharsalia, I., Rowe's Tr.:-

"Of these the chief, for learning famed and age,  
Aruns by name, a venerable sage,  
At Luna lived."

Ruskin, Modern Painters, III. p. 246, says:-  
"But in no part of the poem do we find allusion to mountains in  
any other than a stern light; nor the slightest evidence that  
Dante cared to look at them. From that hill of San Miniato, whose  
steps he knew so well, the eye commands, at the farther extremity  
of the Val d'Arno, the whole purple range of the mountains of  
Carrara, peaked and mighty, seen always against the sunset light  
in silent outline, the chief forms that rule the scene as  
twilight fades away. By this vision Dante seems to have been  
wholly unmoved, and, but for Lucan's mention of Aruns at Luna,  
would seemingly not have spoken of the Carrara hills in the whole  
course of his poem: when he does allude to them, he speaks of  
their white marble, and their command of stars and sea, but has  
evidently no regard for the hills themselves. There is not a  
single phrase or syllable throughout the poem which indicates  
such a regard. Ugolino, in his dream, seemed to himself to be in  
the mountains, `by cause of which the Pisan cannot see Lucca';  
and it is impossible to look up from Pisa to that hoary slope  
without remembering the awe that there is in the passage;  
neverthelss it was as a hunting-ground only that he remembered  
these hills. Adam of Brescia, tormented with eternal thirst,  
remembers the hills of Romena, but only for the sake of their  
sweet waters."

55\. Manto, daughter of Tiresias, who fled from Thebes, the "City  
of Bacchus," when it became subject to the tyranny of Cleon.

63\. Lake Benacus is now called the Lago di Garda. It is  
pleasantly alluded to by Claudian in his "Old Man of Verona,"  
who has seen "the grove grow old coeval with himself."

"Verona seems  
To him remoter than the swarthy Ind;  
He deems the Lake Benacus as the shore  
Of the Red Sea."

65\. The Pennine Alps, or Alpes Paenae, watered by the brooklets  
flowing into the Sarca, which is the principal tributary of  
Benaco.

69\. The place where the three dioceses of Trent, Brescia, and  
Verona meet.

70\. At the outlet of the lake.

77\. Aeneid, X.:-

"Mincius crowned with sea-green reeds."

Milton, Lycidas:-

"Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds."

82\. Manto. Benvenuto da Imola says: "Virgin should here be  
rendered Virago."

93\. Aeneid, X.: "Ocnus,...son of the prophetic Manto, and of the  
Tuscan river, who gave walls and the name of his mother to thee,  
O Mantua!"

95\. Pinamonte dei Buonacossi, a bold, ambitious man, persuaded  
Alberto, Count of Casalodi and Lord of Mantua, to banish to their  
estates the chief nobles of the city, and then, stirring up a  
popular tumult, fell upon the rest, laying waste their houses,  
and sending them into exile or to prison, and thus greatly  
depopulating the city.

110\. Iliad, I. 69: "And Calchas, the son of Thestor, arose, the  
best of augurs, a man who knew the present, the future, and the past,  
and who had guided the ships of the Achaeans to Ilium, by the  
power of prophecy which Phoebus Apollo gave him."

112\. Aeneid, II. 114: "In suspense we send Eurypylus to consult  
the oracle of Apollo, and he brings back from the shrine these  
mournful words: `O Greeks, ye appeased the winds with blood and a  
virgin slain, when first ye came to the Trojan shores; your  
return is to be sought by blood, and atonement made by a Grecian  
life.'" Dante calls Virgil's poem a Tragedy, to make its  
sustained and lofty style, in contrast with that of his own  
Comedy, of which he has already spoken once, Canto XVI. 138, and  
speaks again, Canto XXI. 2; as if he wished the reader to bear in  
mind that he is wearing the sock, and not the buskin.

116\. "Michael Scott, the Magician," says Benvuenuto da Imola,  
"practised divination at the court of Frederick II., and  
dedicated to him a book on natural history, which I have seen,  
and in which among other things he treats of Astrology, then  
deemed infallible... . It is said, moreover, that he foresaw his  
own death, but could not escape it. He had prognosticated that he  
should be killed by the falling of a small stone upon his head,  
and always wore an iron skull-cap under his hood, to prevent this  
disaster. But entering a church on the festival of Corpus Domini,  
he lowered his hood in sign of veneration, not of Christ, in whom  
he did not believe, but to deceive the common people, and a small  
stone fell from aloft on his bare head."  
The reader will recall the midnight scene of the monk of St.  
Mary's and William of Deloraine in Scott's Law of the Last  
Minstrel, Canto II.:-

"In these far climes it was my lot  
To meet the wondrous Michael Scott;  
A wizard of such dreaded fame  
That when, in Salamanca's cave,  
Him listed his magic wand to wave,  
The bells would ring in Notre Dame!  
Some of his skill he taught to me;  
And, warrior, I could say to thee  
The words that cleft Eildon hills in three,  
And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone;  
But to speak them were a deadly sin;  
and for having but thought them my heart within,  
A treble penance must be done."

And the opening of the tomb to recover the Magic Book:-

"Before their eyes the wizard lay,  
As if he had not been dead a day.  
His hoary beard in silver rolled,  
He seemed some seventy winters old;  
A palmer's amice wrapped him round,  
With a wrought Spanish baldric bound,  
Like a pilgrim from beyond the sea;  
His left hand held his book of might;  
A silver cross was in his right;  
The lamp was placed beside his knee:  
High and majestic was his look,  
At which the fellest fiends had shook,  
And all unruffled was his face:-  
They trusted his soul had gotten grace."

See also Appendix to the Lay of the Last Minstrel.

118\. Guido Bonatti, a tiler and astrologer of Forli, who  
accompanied Guido di Montefeltro when he marched out of  
Forli to attack the French "under the great oak." Villani, VII. 81,  
in a passage in which the he and him get a little entangled, says:  
"It is said that the Count of Montefeltro was guided by divination  
and the advice of Guido Bonatti (a tiler who had become an  
astrologer), or some other strategy, and he gave the orders;  
and in this enterprise he gave him the gonfalon and said,  
`So long as a rag of it remains, wherever thou bearest it, thou  
shalt be victorious'; but I rather think his victories were owing  
to his own wits and his mastery in war."  
Benvenuto da Imola reports the following anecdote of the same  
personages. "As the Count was standing one day in the large and  
beautiful square of Forli, there came a rustic mountaineer and  
gave him a basket of pears. And when the Count said, `Stay and  
sup with me,' the rustic answered, `My Lord, I wish to go home  
before it rains; for infallibly there will be much rain today. '  
The Count, wondering at him, sent for Guido Bonatti, as a great  
astrologer, and said to him, `Dost thou hear what this man says?'  
Guido answered, `He does not know what he is saying; but wait a  
little.' Guido went to his study, and, having taken his  
astrolable, observed the aspect of the heavens. And on returning  
he said that it was impossible it should rain that day. But the  
rustic obstinately affirmed what he had said, Guido asked him,  
`Howe dost thou know?' The rustic answered, `Because to-day my  
ass, in coming out of the stable, shook his head and picked up  
his ears, and whenever he does this, it is a certain sign that  
the weather will soon change.' Then Guido replied, `Supposing  
this to be so, how dost thou know there will be much rain"'  
`Because,' said he, `my ass, with his eyes pricked up, turned his  
head aside, and wheeled about more than usual.' Then, with the  
Count's leave, the rustic departed in haste, much fearing the  
rain, though the weather was very clear. And an hour afterwards,  
lo, it began to thunder, and there was a great down-pouring of  
waters, like a deluge. Then Guido began to cry out, with great  
indignation and derision, `Who has deluded me? Who has put me to  
shame?' And for a long time this was a great source of merriment  
among the people."  
Asdente, a cobbler of Parma. "I think he must have had acuteness  
of mind, although illiterate; some having the gift of prophecy by  
the inspiration of Heaven." Dante mentions him in the Convito,  
IV. 16, where he says that, if nobility consisted in being known  
and talked about, "Asdente the shoemaker of Parma would be more  
noble than any of his fellow-citizens."

126\. The moon setting in the sea west of Seville. In the Italian  
popular tradition to which Dante again alludes, Par. II. 51, the  
Man in the Moon is Cain with his Thorns. This belief seems to  
have been current too in England, Midsummer Night's Dream, III,  
1: "Or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lantern,  
and say he comes to disfigure, or to present, the person of  
moon-shine. " And again, V. 1: "The man should be put into the  
lantern. How is it else the man i' the moon?...All that I have  
to say is to tell you, that the lantern is the moon; I, the man  
in the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my  
dog."  
The time here indicated is an hour after sunrise on Saturday  
morning.

Canto 19

1\. The Fifth Bolgia, and the punishment of Barrators, or "Judges  
who take bribes for giving judgment."

2\. Having spoken in the preceding Canto of Virgil's "lofty  
Tragedy, " Dante here speaks of his own Comedy, as if to  
prepare the reader for the scenes which are to follow, and  
for which he apologizes in Canto XXII. 14, by repeating  
the proverb,

"In the church  
With saints, and in the tavern with carousers."

7\. Of the Arsenal of Venice Mr. Hillard thus speaks in his Six  
Months in Italy, I. 63:-  
"No reader of Dante will fail to pay a visit to the Arsenal, from  
which, in order to illustrate the terrors of his `Inferno', the  
great poet drew one of these striking and picturesque images,  
characteristic alike of the boldness and the power of his genius,  
which never hesitated to look for its materials among the homely  
details and familiar incidents of life. In his hands, the boiling  
of pitch and the calking of seams ascend to the dignity of  
poetry. Besides, it is the most impressive and characteristic  
spot in Venice. The Ducal Palace and the Church of St. Mark's are  
symbols of pride and power, but the strength of Venice resided  
here. Her whole history, for six hundred years, was here  
epitomized, and as she rose and sunk, the hum of labor here  
swelled and subsided. Here was the index-hand which marked the  
culmination and decline of her greatness. Built upon several  
small islands, which are united by a wall of two miles in  
circuit, its extent and completeness, decayed as it is, show what  
the naval power of Venice once was, as the disused armor of a  
giant enables us to measure his stature and strength. Near the  
entrace are four marble lions, brought by Morosini from the  
Peloponnesus in 1685, two of which are striking works of art. Of  
these two, one is by far the oldest thing in Venice, being not  
much younger than the battle of Marathon; and thus, from the  
height of twenty-three centuries, entitled to look down upon St.  
Mark's as the growth of yesterday. The other two are non-  
descript animals, of the class commonly called heraldic, and can  
be syled lions only by courtesy. In the armory are some very  
interesting objects, and none more so than the great standard of  
the Turkish admiral, made of crimson silk, taken at the battle of  
Lepanto, and which Cervantes may have grasped with his unwounded  
hand. A few fragments of some of the very galleys that were  
engaged in that memorable fight are also preserved here."

37\. Malebranche, Evil-claws, a general name for the devils.

38\. Santa Zita, the Patron Saint of Lucca, where the magistrates  
were called Elders, or Aldermen. In Florence they bore the name of  
Priors.

41\. A Barrator, in Dante's use of the word, is to the State what a  
Simoniac is to the Church; one who sells justice, office, or  
employment.  
Benvenuto says that Dante includes Bontura with the rest,  
"because he is speaking ironically, as who should say, `Bontura  
is the greatest barrator of all.' For Bontura was an arch-  
barrator, who sagaciously led and managed the whole commune, and  
gave offices to whom he wished. He likewise excluded whom he  
wished."

46\. Bent down in the attitude of one in prayer; therefore the  
demons mock him with the allusion to the Santo Volto.

48\. The Santo Volto, or Holy Face, is a crucifix still preserved  
in the Cathedral of Lucca, and held in great veneration by the  
people. The tradition is that it is the work of Nicodemus, who  
sculptured it from memory. See also Sacchetti, Nov. 73, in which  
a preacher mocks at the Santo Volto in the church of Santa Croce  
at Florence.

49\. The Serchio flows near Lucca. Shelley, in a poem called The  
Boat, on the Serchio, describes it as a "torrent fierce,"

"Which fervid from its mountain source,  
Shallow, smooth, and strong, doth come;  
Swift as fire, tempestuously  
It sweeps into the affrighted sea.  
In the morning's smile its eddies coil,  
Its billows sparkle, toss, and boil,  
Torturing all its quiet light  
Into columns fierce and bright."

63\. Canto IX. 22:-

"True is it once before I here below  
Was conjured by that pitiless Erictho,  
Who summoned back the shades unto their bodies."

95\. A fortified town on the Arno in the Pisan territory. It was  
besieged by the troops of Florence and Lucca in 1289, and  
capitulated. As the garrison marched out under safe-guard, they  
were terrified by the shouts of the crowd, crying: "Hang them!  
hang them!" In this crowd was Dante, "a youth of twenty-five,"  
says Benvenuto da Imola.

110\. Along the circular dike that separates one Bolgia from  
another.

111\. This is a falsehood, as all the bridges over the next Bolgia  
are broken. See Canto XXIII. 140.

112\. At the close of the preceding Canto the time is indicated as  
being an hour after sunrise. Five hours later would be noon, or  
the scriptural sixth hour, the hour of the Crucifixion. Dante  
understands St. Luke to say that Christ died at this hour.  
Convito, IV. 23: "Luke says that it was about the sixth hour when  
he died; that is, the culmination of the day." Add to the "one  
thousand and two hundred sixty-six years," the thirty-four of  
Christ's life on earth, and it gives the year 1300, the date of  
the Infernal Pilgrimage.

114\. Broken by the earthquake at the time of the Crucifixion, as  
the rock leading to the Circle of the Violent, Canto XII. 45:-

"And at that moment this primeval rock  
Both here and elsewhere made such over-throw."

As in the next Bolgia Hypocrites are punished, Dante couples them  
with the Violent, by making the shock of the earthquake more felt  
near them than elsewhere.

125\. The next crag or bridge, traversing the dikes and ditches.

137\. See Canto XVIII. 75.

Canto 22

1\. The subject of the preceding Canto is continued in this.

5\. Aretino, Vita di Dante, says, that Dante in his youth was  
present at the "great and memorable battle, which befell at Campaldino,  
fighting valiantly on horseback in the front rank." It was there  
he saw the vaunt-couriers of the Aretines, who began the battle  
with such a vigorous charge, that they routed the Florentine  
cavalry, and drove them back upon the infantry.

7\. Napier, Florentine Hist., I. 214-217, gives this description  
of the Carroccio and the Martinella of the Florentines:-"In order  
to give more dignity to the national army and form a rallying  
point for the troops, there had been established a great car,  
called the Carroccio, drawn by two beautiful oxen, which,  
carrying the Florentine standard, generally accompanied them into  
the field. This car was painted vermilion, the bullocks were  
covered with scarlet cloth, and the driver, a man o{f} some  
consequence, was dressed in crimson, was exempt from taxation,  
and served without pay; these oxen were maintained at the public  
charge in a public hospital, and the white and red banner of the  
city was spread above the car between two lofty spars. Those  
taken at the battle of Monteaperto are still exhibited in Siena  
Cathedral as trophies of that fatal day.  
"Macchiavelli erroneously places the adoption of the Carroccio  
by the Florentines at this epoch, but it was long before in use,  
and probably was copied from the Milanese, as soon as Florence  
became strong and independent enough to equip a national army.  
Eribert, Archbishop of Milan, seems to have been its author, for  
in the war between Conrad I. and that city, besides other  
arrangements for military organization, he is said to have  
finished by the invention of the Carroccio: it was a pious and  
not impolitic imitation of the ark as it was carried before the  
Israelites. This vehicle is described, and also represented in  
ancient paintings, as a four-wheeled oblong car, drawn by two,  
four, or six bullocks: the car was always red, and the bullocks,  
even to their hoofs, covered as above described, but with red or  
white according to the faction; the ensign staff was red, lofty,  
and tapering, and surmounted by a cross or golden ball: on this,  
between two white fringed veils, hung the national standard, and  
half-way down the mast, a crucifix. A platform ran out in front  
of the car, spacious enough for a few chosen men to defend it,  
while behind, on a corresponding space, the musicians with their  
military instruments gave spirit to the combat: mass was said on  
the Carroccio ere it quitted the city, the surgeons were  
stationed near it, and not unfrequently a chaplain also attended  
it to the field. The loss of the Carroccio was a great disgrace,  
and betokened utter discomfiture; it was given to the most  
distinguished knight, who had a public salary and wore  
conspicuous armor and a golden belt: the best troops were  
stationed round it, and there was frequently the hottest of the  
fight...  
"Besides the Carroccio, the Florentine army was accompanied by a  
great bell, called Martinella, or Campana degli Asini, which, for  
thirty days before hostilities began, tolled continually day and  
night from the arch of Porta Santa Maria, as a public declaration  
of war, and, as the ancient chronicle hath it, `for greatness of  
mind, that the enemy might have full time to prepare himself. '  
At the same time also, the Carroccio was drawn from its place in  
the offices of San Giovanni by the most distinguished knights and  
noble vassals of the republic, and conducted in state to the  
Mercato Nuovo, where it was placed upon the circular stone still  
existing, and remained there until the army took the field. Then  
also the Martinella was removed from its station to a wooden  
tower placed on another car, and with the Carroccio served to  
guide the troops by night and day. `And with these two pomps, of  
the Carroccio and Campana,' says Malespini, `the pride of the old  
citizens, our ancestors, was ruled.'"

15\. Equivalent to the proverb, "Do in Rome as the Romans do."

48\. Giampolo, or Ciampolo, say all the commentators; but nothing  
more is known of him than his name, and what he tells us here of his  
history.

52\. It is not very clear which King Thibault is here meant, but  
it is probably King Thibault IV., the crusader and poet, born 1201,  
died 1253. His poems have been published by Lev#eque de la  
Ravalli ere, under the title of Les Poesies du Roi de Navarre;  
and in one of his songs (Chanson 53) he makes a clerk address him  
as the Bons rois Thiebaut. Dante cites him two or three times in  
his Volg. Eloq., and may have taken this expression from his  
song, as he does afterwards, Canto XXVIII. 135, lo Re joves, the  
Re Giovane, or Young King, from the songs of Bertrand de Born.

65\. A Latian, that is to say, an Italian.

82\. This Frate Gomita was a Sardinian in the employ of Nino de'  
Visconti, judge in the jurisdiction of Gallura, the "gentle Judge  
Nino" of Purg. VIII. 53.  
The frauds and peculations of the Friar brought him finally to  
the gallows. Gallura is the northeastern jurisdiction of the  
island.

88\. Don Michael Zanche was Seneschal of King Enzo of Sardinia, a  
natural son of the Emperor Frederick II. Dante gives him the  
title of Don, still used in Sardinia for Signore. After the death  
of Enzo in prison at Bologna, in 1271, Don Michael won by fraud  
and flattery his widow Adelasia, and became himself Lord of  
Logodoro, the northwestern jurisdiction, adjoining that of  
Gallura.  
The gossip between the Friar and the Seneschal, which is here  
described by Ciampolo, recalls the Vision of the Sardinian poet  
Araolla, a dialogue between himself and Gavino Sambigucci,  
written in the soft dialect of Logodoro, a mixture of Italian,  
Spanish, and Latin, and beginning:-

"Dulche, amara memoria de giornadas  
Fuggitivas cun doppia pena mia,  
Qui quanto pius l'istringo sunt passada."

See Valery, Voyages en Corse et en Sardaigne, II. 410.

Canto 23

1\. In this Sixth Bolgia the Hypocrites are punished.

"A painted people there below we found,  
Who went about with footsteps very slow,  
Weeping and in their looks subdued and weary."

Chaucer, Knightes Tale, 2780:-

"In his colde grave  
Alone, withouten any compagnie."

And Gower, Conf. Amant.:-

To muse in his philosophie  
Sole withouten compaignie.

4\. The Fables of Aesop, by Sir Roger L'Estrang, IV.:"There fell  
out a bloody quarrel once betwixt the Frogs and the Mice, about  
the sovereignty of the Fenns; and whilst two of their champions  
were disputing it at swords point, down comes a kite powdering  
upon them in the interim, and gobbles up both together, to part  
the fray."

7\. Both words signifying "now"; mo, from the Latin modo ; and  
issa, from the Latin ipsa; meaning ipsa hora. "The Tuscans say mo,"  
remarks Benvenuto, "the Lombards issa."

37\. "When he is in a fright and hurry, and has a very steep place  
to go down, Virgil, has to carry him altogether," says Mr. Ruskin.  
See Canto XII., Note 2.

63\. Benvenuto speaks of the cloaks of the German monks as  
"ill-fitting and shapeless."

66\. The leaden cloaks which Frederick put upon malefactors were  
straw in comparison. The Emperor Frederick II. is said to have punished  
traitors by wrapping them in lead, and throwing them into a  
heated caldron. I can find no historic authority for this. It  
rests only on tradition; and on the same authority the same  
punishment is said to have been inflicted in Scotland, and is  
thus described in the ballad of "Lord Soulis," Scott's  
Ministrelsy of the Scottish Border, IV. 256:-

"On a circle of stones they placed the pot,  
On a circle of stones but barely nine;  
They heated it red and fiery hot,  
Till the burnished brass did glimmer and shine.

"They roll'd him up in a sheet of lead,  
A sheet of lead for a funeral pall,  
And plunged him into the caldron red,  
And melted him,-lead, and bones, and all."

We get also a glimpse of this punishment in Ducange, Glo. Capa  
Plumbea, where he cites the case in which one man tells another:  
"If our Holy Father the Pope knew the life you are leading, he  
would have you put to death in a cloak of lead."

67\. Comedy of Errors, IV. 2:-"A devil in an everlasting garment  
hath him."

91\. Bolgna was renowned for its University; and the speaker, who  
was a Bolognese, is still mindful of his college.

95\. Florence, the bellissima e famosissima figlia di Roma, as  
Dante calls it, Convito, I. 3.

103\. An order of knighthood, established by Pope Urban IV. in  
1261, under the title of "Knights of Santa Maria." The name Frati  
Gaudenti, or "Jovial Friars," was a nickname, because they lived  
in their own homes and were not bound by strict monastic rules.  
Napier, Flor. Hist. I. 269, says:-  
"A short time before this a new order of religious nighthood  
under the name of Frati Gaudenti began in Italy: it was not bound  
by vows of celibacy, or any very severe regulations, but took the  
usual oaths to defend widows and orphans and make peace between  
man and man: the founder was a Bolognese gentleman, called  
Loderingo di Liandolo, who enjoyed a good reputation, and along  
with a brother of the same order, named Catalano di Malavolti,  
one a Guelph and the other a Ghibelline, was now invited to  
Florence by Count Guido to execute conjointly the office of  
Podest a. It was intended by thus dividing the supreme authority  
between two magistrates of different politics, that one should  
correct the other, and justice be equally administered; more  
especially as, in conjunction with the people, they were allowed  
to elect a deliberative council of thirty-six citizens, belonging  
to the principal trades without distinction of party."  
Farther on he says that these two Frati Gaudenti "forfeited all  
public confidence by their peculation and hypocrisy." And  
Villani, VII. 13: "Although they were of different parties, under  
cover of a false hypocrisy, they were of accord in seeking rather  
their own private gains than the common good."

108\. A street in Florence, laid waste by the Guelfs.

113\. |Hamlet, I. 2:-

"Nor windy suspiration of forced breath."

115\. Caiaphas, the High-Priest, who thought "expediency" the best  
thing.

121\. Annas, father-in-law of Caiaphas.

134\. The great outer circle surrounding this division of the  
Inferno.

142\. He may have heard in the lectures of the University an  
exposition of John viii. 44:

"Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye  
will do: he was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in  
the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaketh a  
lie, he speaketh of his own; for he is a liar, and the father of  
it."

Canto 24

1\. The Seventh Bolgia, in which Thieves are punished.

2\. The sun enters Aquarius during the last half of January, when  
the Equinox is near, and the hoar-frost in the morning looks like  
snow on the fields, but soon evaporates. If Dante had been a monk  
of Monte Casino, illuminating a manuscript, he could not have  
made a more clerkly and scholastic flourish with his pen than  
this, nor have painted a more beautiful picture than that which  
follows. The mediaeval poets are full of lovely descriptions of  
Spring, which seems to blossom and sing through all their verses;  
but none is more beautiful or suggestive than this, though  
serving only as an illustration.

21\. In Canto I.

43\. See what Mr. Ruskin says of Dante as "a notably bad climber,"  
Canto XII. Note 2.

55\. The ascent of the Mount of Purgatory.

73\. The next circular dike, dividing the fosses.

86\. This list of serpents is from Lucan, Phars. IX. 711, Rowe's  
Tr. :-

"Slimy Chelyders the parched earth distain  
And trace a reeking furrow on the plain.  
The spotted Cenchris, rich in various dyes,  
Shoots in a line, and forth directly flies.

The Swimmer there the crystal stream pollutes,  
And swift thro' air the flying Javelin shoots.

The Amphisbaena doubly armed appears  
At either end a threatening head she rears;  
Raised on his active tail Pareas stands,  
And as he passes, furrows up the sands."

Milton, Parad. Lost, X. 521:-

"Dreadful was the din  
Of hissing through the hall, thick-swarming now  
With complicated monsters head and tail,  
Scorpion, and asp, and amphisbaena dire,  
Cerastes horned, hydrus, and elops drear,  
And dipsas."

Of the Phareas, Peter Comestor, Hist. Scholast., Gloss of Genesis  
iii. 1, says: "And this he (Lucifer) did by means of the serpent;  
for then it was erect like man; being afterwards made prostrate  
by the curse; and it is said the Phareas walks erect even to this  
day."  
Of the Amphisbaena, Brunetto Latini, Tresor I. v. 140, says:  
"The Amphimenie is a kind of serpent which has two heads; one in  
its right place, and the other in the tail; and with each she can  
bite; and she runs swiftly, and her eyes shine like candles."

93\. Without a hiding-place, or the heliotrope, a precious stone  
of great virtue against poisons, and supposed to render the wearer  
invisible. Upon this latter vulgar error is founded Boccaccio's  
comical story of Calandrino and his friends Bruno and  
Buffulmacco, Decam., Gior. VIII., Nov. 3.

107\. Brunetto Latini, Tresor I. v. 164, says of the Phoenix: "He  
goeth to a good tree, savory and of good odor, and maketh a pile  
thereof, to which he setteth fire, and entereth straightway into  
it toward the rising of the sun."  
And Milton, Samson Agonistes, 1697:

"So Virtue, given for lost,  
Depressed and overthrown, as seemed,  
Like that self-begotten bird  
In the Arabian woods embost,  
That no second knows nor third,  
And lay erewhile a holocaust,  
From out her ashy womb now teemed,  
Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous most  
When most unactive deemed;  
And, though her body die, her fame survives  
A secular bird ages of lives."

114\. Any obstruction, "such as the epilepsy," says Benvenuto.  
"Gouts and dropsies, catarrhs and oppilations," says Jeremy Taylor.

125\. Vanni Fucci, who calls himself a mule, was a bastard son of  
Fuccio de' Lazzari. All the commentators paint him in the darkest  
colors. Dante had known him as "a man of blood and wrath," and  
seems to wonder he is here, and not in the circle of the Violent,  
or of the Irascible. But his great crime was the robbery of a  
sacristy. Benvenuto da Imola relates the story in detail. He  
speaks of him as a man of depraved life, many of whose misdeeds  
went unpunished, because he was of noble family. Being banished  
from Pistoia for his crimes, he returned to the city one night of  
the Carnival, and was in company with eighteen other revellers,  
among whom was Vanni della Nona, a notary; when, not content with  
their insipid diversions, he stole away with two companions to  
the church of San Giacomo, and, finding its custodians absent, or  
asleep with feasting and drinking, he entered the sacristy and  
robbed it of all its precious jewels. These he secreted in the  
house of the notary, which was close at hand, thinking that on  
account of his honest repute no suspicion would fall upon him. A  
certain Rampino was arrested for the theft, and put to the  
torture; when Vanni Fucci, having escaped to Monte Carelli,  
beyond the Florentine jurisdiction, sent a messenger to Rampino's  
father, confessing all the circumstances of the crime. Hereupon  
the notary was seized "on the first Monday in Lent, as he was  
going to a sermon in the church of the Minorite Friars," and was  
hanged for the theft, and Rampino set at liberty. No one has a  
good word to say for Vanni Fucci, except the Canonico  
Crescimbeni, who, in the Comentarj to the Istoria della Volg.  
Poesia, II. ii., p. 99, counts him among the Italian Poets, and  
speaks of him as a man of great courage and gallantry, and a  
leader of the Neri party of Pistoia, in 1300. He smooths over  
Dante's invectives by remarking that Dante "makes not too  
honorable mention of him in the Comedy"; and quotes a sonnet of  
his, which is pathetic from its utter despair and  
self-reproach:-

"For I have lost the good I might have had  
Through little wit, and not of mine own will."

It is like the wail of a lost soul, and the same in tone as the  
words which Dante here puts into his mouth. Dante may have heard  
him utter similar self-accusations while living, and seen on his  
face the blush of shame, which covers it here.

143\. The Neri were banished from Pistoia in 1301; the Bianchi,  
from Florence in 1302.

145\. This vapor or lightning flash from Val di Magra is the  
Marquis Malaspini, and the "turbid clouds" are the banished Neri of  
Pistoia, whom he is to gather about him to defeat the Bianchi at  
Campo Piceno, the old battle-field of Catiline. As Dante was of  
the Bianchi party, this prophecy of impending disaster and  
overthrow could only give him pain. See Canto VI. Note 65.

Canto 25

1\. The subject of the preceding Canto is continued in this.

2\. This vulgar gesture of contempt consists in thursting the  
thumb between the first and middle fingers. It is the same as the ass-  
driver made at Dante in the street; Sacchetti, Nov. CXV.: "When  
he was a little way off, he turned around to Dante, and thrusting  
out his tongue and making a fig at him with his hand, said, `Take  
that.'"  
Villani, VI. 5, says: "On the Rock of Carmignano there was a  
tower seventy yards high, and upon it two marble arms, the hands  
of which were making the figs at Florence." Others say these  
hands were on a finger-post by the road-side.  
In the Merry Wives of Windsor, I. 3, Pistol says:"Convey, the  
wise it call; Steal! foh; a fico fo the phrase!" And Martino, in  
Beaumont and Fletcher's Widow, V. 1:-

"The fig of everlasting obloquy  
Go with him."

10\. Pistoia is supposed to have been founded by the soldiers of  
Catiline. Brunetto Latini, Tresor, I. i. 37, says: "They found  
Catiline at the foot of the mountains and he had his army and his  
people in that place where is now the city of Pestoire. There was  
Catiline conquered in battle, and he and his were slain; also a  
great part of the Romans were killed. And on account of the  
pestilence of that great slaughter the city was called Pestoire."  
The Italian proverb says, Pistoia la ferrigna, iron Pistoia, or  
Pistoia the pitiless.

15\. Capaneus, Canto XIV. 44.

19\. See Canto XIII. Note 9.

25\. Cacus was the classic Giant Despair, who had his cave in  
Mount Aventine, and stole a part of the herd of Geryon, which Hercules  
had brought to Italy.  
Virgil, Aeneid, VIII., Dryden's Tr.:-

"See yon huge cavern, yawning wide around,  
Where still the shattered mountain spreads the ground:  
That spacious hold grim Cacus once posessed,  
Tremendous find! half human, half a beast:  
Deep, deep as hell, the dismal dungeon lay,  
Dark and impervious to the beams of day.  
With copious slaughter smoked the purple floor,  
Pale heads hung horrid on the lofty door,  
Dreadful to view! and dropped with crimson gore."

28\. Dante makes a Centaur of Cacus, and separates him from the  
others because he was fraudulent as well as violent. Virgil calls him  
only a monster, a half-man, Semihominis Caci facies.

35\. Agnello Brunelleschi, Buoso degli Abati, and Puccio  
Sciancato.

38\. The story of Cacus, which Virgil was telling.

43\. Cianfa Donati, a Florentine nobleman. He appears immediately,  
as a serpent with six feet, and fastens upon Agnello Brunelleschi.

65\. Some commentators contended that in this line papiro does not  
mean paper, but a lamp-wick made of papyrus. This destroys the  
beauty and aptness of the image, and rather degrades

"The leaf of the reed,  
Which has grown through the clefts in the ruins of ages."

73\. These four lists, or hands, are the fore feet of the serpent  
and the arms of Agnello.

76\. Shakespeare, in the "Additional Poems to Chester's Love's  
Martyrs, " Knight's Shakespeare, VII. 193, speaks of "Two  
distincts, division none"; and continues:-

"Property was thus appalled  
That the self was not the same,  
Single nature's double name  
Neither two nor one was called.

"Reason, in itself confounded,  
Saw division grow together;  
To themselves yet either neither,  
Simple were so well compounded."

83\. This black serpent is Guercio Cavalcanti, who changes form  
with Buoso degli Abati.

95\. Lucan, Phars., IX., Rowe's Tr.:-

"But soon a fate more sad with new surprise  
From the first object turns their wondering eyes.  
Wretched Sabellus by a Seps was stung:  
Fixed on his leg with deadly teeth it hung.  
Sudden the soldier shook it from the wound,  
Transfixed and nailed it to the barren ground.  
Of all the dire, destructive serpent race,  
None have so much of death, though none are less.  
For straight around the part the skin withdrew,  
The flesh and shrinking sinews backward flew,  
And left the naked bones exposed to view.  
The spreading poisons all the parts confound,  
And the whole body stinks within the wound.

Small relics of the mouldering mass were left,  
At once of substance as of form bereft;  
Dissolved, the whole in liquid poison ran,  
And to a nauseous puddle shrunk the man.

So snows dissolved by southern breezes run,  
So melts the wax before the noonday sun.  
Nor ends the wonder here; though flames are known  
To waste the flesh, yet still they spare the bone:  
Here none were left, no least remains were seen,  
No marks to show that once the man had been.

A fate of different kind Nasidius found,-  
A burning Prester gave the deadly wound,  
And straight a sudden flame began to spread,  
And paint his visage with a glowing red.  
With swift expansion swells the bloated skin,-  
Naught but an undistinguished mass is seen,  
While the fair human form lies lost within;  
The puffy poison spreads and heaves around,

Till all the man is the monster drowned.  
No more the steely plate his breast can stay,  
But yields, and gives the bursting poison way.  
Not waters so, when fire the rage supplies,  
Bubbling on heaps, in boiling caldrons rise;  
Nor swells the stretching canvas half so fast,  
When the sails gather all the driving blast,  
Strain the tough yards, and bow the lofty mast.  
The various parts no longer now are known,  
One headless, formless heap remains alone."

97\. Ovid, Metamorph., IV., Eusden's Tr.:-

"`Come, my Harmonia, come, thy face recline  
Down to my face: still touch what still is mine.  
O let these hands, while hands, be gently pressed,  
While yet the serpent has not all posessed.'  
More he had spoke, but strove to speak in vain,-  
The forky tongue refused to tell his pain,  
And learned in hissings only to complain.  
"Then shrieked Harmonia, `Stay, my Cadmus, stay!  
Glide not in such a monstrous shape away!  
Destruction, like impetous waves, rolls on.  
Where are thy feet, thy legs, thy shoulders, gone?  
Changed is thy visage, changed is all thy frame,-  
Cadmus is only Cadmus now in name.  
Ye Gods! my Cadmus to himself restore  
Or me like him transform,-I ask no more.'"

And V., Maynwaring's Tr.:-

"The God so near, a chilly sweat posessed  
My fainting limbs, at every pore expressed;  
My strength distilled in drops, my hair in dew,  
My form was changed, and all my substance new:  
Each motion was a stream, and my whole frame  
Turned to a fount, which still preserves my name."

See also Shelly's Arethusa:-

"Arethusa arose  
From her couch of snows  
In the Acroceraunian mountains,-  
From the cloud and from crag  
With many a jag  
Shepherding her bright fountains.  
She leapt down the rocks,  
With her rainbow locks  
Streaming among the streams;  
Her steps paved with green  
The downward ravine  
Which slopes to the western gleams;  
And gliding and springing,  
She went, ever singing,  
In murmurs as soft as sleep.  
The Earth seemed to love her,  
And Heaven smiled above her,  
As she lingered towards the deep."

144\. Some editions read la penna, the pen, instead of la lingua,  
the tongue.

151\. Gaville was a village in the Valdarno, where Guercio  
Cavalcanti was murdered. The family took vengeance upon the inhabitants  
in  
the old Italian style, thus causing Gaville to lament the murder.

Canto 26

1\. The Eighth Bolgia, in which Fraudulent Counsellors are  
punished.

4\. Of these five Florentine nobles, Cianfa Donati, Agnello  
Brunelleschi, Buoso degli Abati, Puccio Sciancato, and Guercio  
Cavalcanti, nothing is known but what Dante tells us. Perhaps  
that is enough.

7\. See Purg. IX. 13:-

"Just at the hour when her sad lay begins  
The little swallow, near unto the morning,  
Perchance in memory of her former woes  
And when the mind of man, a wanderer  
More from the flesh, and less by thought imprisoned,  
Almost prophetic in its visions is."

9\. The disasters soon to befall Florence, and in which even the  
neighboring town of Prato would rejoice, to mention no others.  
These disasters were the fall of the wooden bridge of Carraia,  
with a crowd upon it, witnessing a Miracle Play on the Arno; the  
strife of the Bianchi and Neri; and the great fire of 1304. See  
Villani, VIII. 70, 71. Napier, Florentine History, I. 394, gives  
this account:-  
"Battles first began between the Cerchi and Giugni at their  
houses in the Via del Garbo; they fought day and night, and with  
the aid of the Cavalcanti and Antellesi the former subdued all  
that quarter: a thousand rural adherents strengthened their  
bands, and that day might have seen the Neri's destruction if an  
unforseen disaster had not turned the scale. A certain dissolute  
priest, called Neri Abati, prior of San Piero Scheraggio, false  
to his family and in concert with the Black chiefs, consented to  
set fire to the dwellings of his own kinsmen in Orto-san-Michele;  
the flames, assisted by faction, spread rapidly over the richest  
and most crowded part of Florence: shops, warehouses, towers,  
private dwellings and palaces, from the old to the new market-  
place, from Vacchereccia to Porta Santa Maria and the Ponte  
Vecchio, all was one broad sheet of fire: more than nineteen  
hundred houses were consumed; plunder and devastation revelled  
unchecked amongst the flames, whole races were reduced in one  
moment to beggary, and vast magazines of the richest merchandise  
were destroyed. The Cavalcanti, one of the most opulent families  
in Florence, beheld their whole property consumed, and lost all  
courage; they made no attempt to save it, and, after almost  
gaining possession of the city, were finally overcome by the  
opposite faction."

10\. |Macbeth, I. 7:-

"If it were done when `t is done, then `t were well  
It were done quickly."

23\. See Parad. XII. 112:-

"O glorius stars! O light impregnated  
With mighty virtue, from which I acknowledge  
All of my genius, whatso'er it be."

24\. I may not balk or deprive myself of this good.

34\. The Prophet Elisha, 2 Kings ii. 23:-  
"And he went up from thence unto Bethel; and as he was going up  
by the way, there came forth little children out of the city, and  
mocked him, and said unto him, Go up, thou bald head; go up, thou  
bald head. And he turned back, and looked on them, and cursed  
them in the name of the Lord: and there came forth two she-bears  
out of the wood, and tare forty and two children of them."

35\. 2 Kings ii. II:-"And it came to pass, as they still went on  
and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and  
horses of fire, and parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up  
by a whirlwind into heaven."

54\. These two sons of Oedipus, Eteocles and Polynices, were so  
hostile to each other, that, when after death their bodies were  
burned on the same funeral pile, the flames swayed apart, and the  
ashes separated. Statius, Thebaid, XII. 430, Lewis's Tr.:-

"Again behold the brothers! When the fire  
Pervades their limbs in many a curling spire,  
The vast hill trembles, and the intruder's corse  
Is driven from the pile with sudden force.  
The flames, dividing at the point, ascend,  
And at each other adverse rays extend.  
Thus when the ruler of the infernal state,  
Pale-visaged Dis, commits to stern debate  
The sister-fiends, their brands, held forth to fight,  
Now clash, then part, and shed a transient light."

56\. The most cunning of the Greeks at the siege of Troy, now  
united in their punishment, as before in warlike wrath.

59\. As Troy was overcome by the fraud of the wooden horse, it was  
in a poetic sense the gateway by which Aeneas went forth to  
establish the Roman empire in Italy.

62\. Deidamia was a daughter of Lycomedes of Sycros, at whose  
court Ulysses found Achilles, disguised in woman's attire, and enticed  
him away to the siege of Troy, telling him that, according to the  
oracle, the city could not be taken without him, but not telling  
him that, according to the same oracle, he would lose his life  
there.

63\. Ulysses and Diomed together stole the Palladium, or statue of  
Pallas, at Troy, the safeguard and protection of the city.

75\. The Greeks scorned all other nations as "outside barbarians."  
Even Virgil, a Latian, has to plead with Ulysses the merit of  
having praised him in the Aeneid.

108\. The Pillars of Hercules at the straits of Gibraltar; Abyla  
on the African shore, and Gibraltar on the Spanish; in which the  
popular  
mind has lost its faith, except as symbolized in the columns on  
the Spanish dollar, with the legend, Plus ultra. Brunetto Latini,  
Tesor. IX. 119:-

"Appresso questo mare,  
Vidi diritto stare  
Gran colonne, le quali  
Vi mise per segnali  
Ercules il potente,  
Per mostrare alla gente  
Che loco sia finata  
La terra e terminata."

125\. |Odyssey, XI. 155: "Well-fitted oars, which are also wings  
to ships."

127\. Humboldt, Personal Narrative, II. 19, Miss Williams's Tr.,  
has this passage: "From the time we entered the torrid zone, we were  
never wearied with admiring, every night, the beauty of the Southern  
sky, which, as we advanced toward the south, opened new constellations  
to our view. We feel an indescribable sensation, when, on  
approaching the equator, and particularly on passing from on  
hemisphere to the other, we see those stars, which we have  
contemplated from our infancy, progressively sink, and finally  
disappear. Nothing awakens in the traveller a livelier  
remembrance of the immense distance by which he is separated from  
his country, than the aspect of an unknown firmament. The  
grouping of the stars of the first magnitude, some scattered  
nebulae, rivalling in splendor the milky way, and tracks of  
space remarkable for their extreme blackness, give a particular  
physiognomy to the Southern sky. This sight fills with admiration  
even those who, uninstructed in the branches of accurate science,  
feel the same emotion of delight in the contemplation of the  
heavenly vault, as in the view of a beautiful landscape, or a  
majestic site. A traveller has no need of being a botanist, to  
recognize the torrid zone on the mere aspect of its vegetation;  
and without having acquired any notions of astronomy, without any  
acquaintance with the celestial charts of Flamstead and De la  
Caille, he feels he is not in Europe, when he sees the immense  
constellation of the Ship, or the phosphorescent clouds of  
Magellan, arise on the horizon."

142\. Compare Tennyson's Ulysses:-

"There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:  
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,  
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me,-  
That ever with a frolic welcome took  
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed  
Free hearts, free foreheads,-you and I are old;  
Old age hath yet his honor and his toil;  
Death closes all: but something ere the end,  
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,  
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.  
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:  
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep  
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,  
`T is not too late to seek a newer world.  
Push off, and, sitting well in order, smite  
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds  
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths  
Of all the western stars, until I die.  
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:  
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,  
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.  
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'  
We are not now that strength which in old days  
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;  
One equal temper of heroic hearts,  
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will  
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

Canto 27

1\. The subject of the preceding Canto is continued in this.

7\. The story of the Brazen Bull of Perillus is thus told in the  
Gesta Romanorum, Tale 48, Swan's Tr.:-  
"Dionysius records, that when Perillus desired to become an  
artificer of Phalaris, a cruel and tyrannical king who  
depopulated the kingdom, and was guilty of many dreadful  
excesses, he presented to him, already too well skilled in  
cruelty, a brazen bull, which he has just constructed. In one of  
its sides there was a secret door, by which those who were  
sentenced should enter and be burnt to death. The idea was, that  
the sounds produced by the agony of the sufferer confined within  
should resemble the roaring of a bull; and thus, while nothing  
human struck the ear, the mind should be unimpressed by a feeling  
of mercy. The king highly applauded the invention, and said,  
`Friend, the value of thy industry is yet untried: more cruel  
even than the people account me, thou thyself shalt be the first  
victim.'"  
Also in Gower, Confes. Amant., VII.:-

"He had of counseil many one,  
Among the whiche there was one,  
By name which Berillus hight.  
And he bethought him how he might  
Unto the tirant do liking.  
And of his own ymagining  
Let forge and make a bulle of bras,  
And on the side cast there was  
A dore, where a man may inne,  
Whan he his peine shall beginne  
Through fire, which that men put under.  
And all this did he for a wonder,  
That when a man for peine cride,  
The bull of bras, which gapeth wide,  
It shulde seme, as though it were  
A bellewing in a mannes ere  
And nought the crieng of a man.  
But he, which alle sleightes can,  
The devil, that lith in helle fast,  
Him that it cast hath overcast,  
That for a trespas, which he dede,  
He was put in the same stede.  
And was himself the first of alle,  
Which was into that peine falle  
That he for other men ordeigneth."

21\. Virgil being a Lombard, Dante suggests that, in giving  
Ulysses and Diomed license to depart, he had used the Lombard dialect,  
saying, " Issa t' en va." See Canto XXIII. Note 7.

28\. The inhabitants of the province of Romagna, of which Ravenna  
is the capital.

29\. It is the spirit of Guido da Montefeltro that speaks. The  
city of Montefeltro lies between Urbino and that part of the Apennines  
in  
which the Tiber rises. Count Guido was a famous warrior, and one  
of the great Ghibelline leaders. He tells his own story  
sufficiently in detail in what follows.

40\. Lord Byron, Don Juan, III. 105, gives this description of  
Ravenna, with an allusion to Boccaccio's Tale, versified by  
Dryden under the title of Theodore and Honoria:-

"Sweet hour of twilight!-in the solitude  
Of the pine forest, and the silent shore  
Which bounds Ravenna's immemorial wood,  
Rooted where once the Adrian wave flow'd o'er,  
To where the last Caesarean fortress stood,  
Ever-green forest! which Boccaccio's lore  
And Dryden's lay made haunted ground to me,  
How have I loved the twilight hour and thee!

"The shrill cicalas, people of the pine,  
Making their summer lives one ceaseless song  
Were the sole echoes, save my steed's and mine,  
And vesper-bell's that rose the boughs along;  
The spectre huntsman o Onesti's line,  
His hell-dogs, and their chase, and the fair throng,  
Which learned from this example not to fly  
From a true lover, showed my mind's eye,"

Dryden's Theodore and Honoria begins with these words:-

Of all the cities in Romanian lands,  
The chief, and most removed, Ravenna stands,  
Adorned in ancient times with arms and arts,  
And rich inhabitants, with generous hearts."  
It was at Ravenna that Dante passed the last years of his life,  
and there he died and was buried.

41\. The arms of Guido da Polenta, Lord of Ravenna, Dante's  
friend, and father (or nephew) of Francesca da Rimini, were an eagle  
half  
white in a field of azure, and half red in a field of gold.  
Cervia is a small town some twelve miles from Ravenna.

43\. The city of Forli, where Guido da Montefeltro defeated and  
slaughtered the French in 1282. See Canto XX. Note 118. 45. A  
Green lion was the coat of arms of the Ordelaffi, then Lords of  
Forli.

46\. Malatesta, father and son, tyrants of Rimini, who murdered  
Montagna, a Ghibelline leader. Verrucchio was their castle, near  
the city. Of this family were the husband and lover of Francesca.  
Dante calls them mastiffs, becaue of their fierceness, making  
"wimbles of their teeth" in tearing and devouring.

49\. The cities of Faenza on the Lamone, and Imola on the  
Santerno. They were ruled by Mainardo, surnamed "the Devil,"  
whose coat of arms was a lion azure in a white field.

52\. The city of Cesena.

67\. Milton, Parad. Lost, III. 479:-

"Dying put on the weeds of Dominic,  
Or in Franciscan think to pass disguised."

70\. Boniface VIII., who in line 85 is called "the Prince of the  
new Pharisees."

81\. Dante, Convito IV. 28, quoting Cicero, says: "Natural death  
is as it were a haven and rest to us after long navigation. And the  
noble soul is like a good mariner; for he, when he draws near the  
port, lowers his sails, and enters it softly with feeble  
steerage. "

86\. This Papal war, which was waged against Christians, and not  
against pagan Saracens, nor unbelieving Jews, nor against the  
renegades who had helped them at the siege of Acre, or given them  
aid and comfort by traffic, is thus described by Mr. Norton,  
Travel and Study in Italy, p. 263:-  
"This `war near the Lateran' was a war with the great family of  
Colonna. Two of the house were Cardinals. They had been deceived  
in the election, and were rebellious under the rule of Boniface.  
The Cardinals of the great Ghibelline house took no pains to  
conceal their ill-will toward the Guelf Pope. Boniface, indeed,  
accused them of plotting with his enemies for his overthrow. The  
Colonnas, finding Rome unsafe, had withdrawn to their strong town  
of Palestrina, whence they could issue forth at will for plunder,  
and where they could give shelter to those who shared in their  
hostility toward the Pope. On the other hand, Boniface, not  
trusting himself in Rome, withdrew to the secure height of  
Orvieto, and thence, on the 14th of December, 1297, issued a  
terrible bull for a crusade against them, granting plenary  
indulgence to all, (such was the Christian temper of the times,  
and so literally were the violent seizing upon the kingdom of  
Heaven,) granting plenary indulgence to all who would take up  
arms against these rebellious sons of the Church and march  
against their chief stronghold, their ` alto seggio' of  
Palestrina. They and their adherents had already been  
excommunicated and put under the ban of the Church; they had been  
stripped of all dignities and privileges; their property had been  
confiscated; and they were now by this bull placed in the  
position o enemies, not of the Pope alone, but of the Church  
Universal. Troops gathered against them from all quarters of  
Papal Italy. Their lands were ravaged, and they themselves shut  
up within their stronghold; but for a long time they held out in  
their ancient high-walled mountaintown. It was to gain Palestrina  
that Boniface `had war near the Lateran.' The great church and  
palace of the Lateran, standing on the summit of the Coelian  
Hill, close to the city wall, overlooks the Campagna, which, in  
broken levels of brown and green and purple fields, reaches to  
the base of the encircling mountains. Twenty miles away, crowning  
the top and clinging to the side of one of the last heights of  
the Sabine range, are the gray walls and roofs of Palestrina. It  
was a far more conspicuous place at the close of the thirteenth  
century than it is now; for the great columns of the famous  
temple of Fortune still rose above the town, and the ancient  
citadel kept watch over it from its high rock. At length, in  
September, 1298, the Colonnas, reduced to the hardest  
extremities, became ready for peace. Boniface promised largely.  
The two Cardinals presented themselves before him at Rieti, in  
coarse brown dresses, and with ropes around their necks, in token  
of their repentance and submission. The Pope gave them not only  
pardon and absolution, but hope of being restored to their titles  
and possessions. This was the ` lunga promessa con l'attender  
corto'; for, while the Colonnas were retained near him, and these  
deceptive hopes held out to them, Boniface sent the Bishop of  
Orvieto to take possession of Palestrina, and to destroy it  
utterly, leaving only the church to stand as a monument above its  
ruins. The work was done thoroughly;-a plough was drawn across  
the site of the unhappy town, and salt scattered in the furrow,  
that the land might thenceforth be desolate. The inhabitants were  
removed from the mountain to the plain, and there forced to build  
new homes for themselves, which, in their turn, two years  
afterwards, were thrown down and burned by order of the  
implacable Pope. This last piece of malignity was accomplished in  
1300, the year of the Jubilee, the year in which Dante was in  
Rome and in which he saw Guy of Montefeltro, the counsellor of  
Boniface in deceit, burning in Hell."

94\. The story of Sylvester and Constantine is one of the legends  
of the Legenda Aurea. The part of it relating to the Emperor's  
baptism is thus condensed by Mrs. Jameson in her Sacred and  
Legendary Art, II. 313:-  
"Sylvester was born at Rome of virtuous parents; and at a time  
when Constantine was still in the darkness of idolatry and  
persecuted the Christians, Sylvester, who had been elected Bishop  
of Rome, fled from the persecution, and dwelt for some time in a  
cavern, near the summit of Monte Calvo. While he lay there  
concealed, the Emperor was attacked by a horrible leprosy: and  
having called to him the priests of his false gods, they advised  
that he should bathe himself in a bath of children's blood, and  
three thousand children were collected for this purpose. And as  
he proceeded in his chariot to the place where the bath was to be  
prepared, the mothers of these children threw themselves in his  
way with dishevelled hair, weeping, and crying aloud for mercy.  
Then Constantine was moved to tears, and he ordered his chariot  
to stop, and he said to his nobles and to his attendants who were  
around him, "Far better is it that I should die, than cause the  
death of these innocents!' And then he commanded that the  
children should be restored to their mothers with great gifts, in  
recompense of what they had suffered; so they went away full of  
joy and gratitude, and the Emperor returned to his palace. "On  
that same night, as he lay asleep, St. Peter and St. Paul  
appeared at his bedside: and they stretched their hands over him  
and said, `Because thou hast feared to spill the innocent blood,  
Jesus Christ has sent us to bring thee good counsel. Send to  
Sylvester, who lies hidden amoung the mountains, and he shall  
show thee the pool in which, having washed three times, thou  
shalt be clean from thy leprosy; and henceforth thou shalt adore  
the God of the Christians, and thou shalt cease to persecute and  
to oppress them. ' Then Constantine, awaking from this vision,  
sent his soldiers in search of Sylvester. And when they took  
him, he supposed that it was to lead him to death; nevertheless  
he went cheerfully: and when he appeared before the Emperor,  
Constantine arose and saluted him, and said, `I would know of  
thee who are those two gods who appeared to me in the visions of  
the night?' And Sylvester replied, `They were not gods, but the  
apostles of the Lord Jesus Christ.' Then Constantine desired that  
he would show him the effigies of these two apostles; and  
Sylvester sent for two pictures of St. Peter and St. Paul, which  
were in the possession of certain pious Christians. Constantine,  
having behald them, saw that they were the same who had appeared  
to him in his dream. Then Sylvester baptized him, and he came out  
of the font cured of his malady. "  
Gower also, Confes. Amatis, II., tells the story at length: -

"And in the while it was begunne  
A light, as though it were a sunne,  
Fro heven into the place come  
Where that he toke his christendome,  
And ever amonge the holy tales  
Lich as they weren fisches scales  
They fellen from him now and efte,  
Till that there was nothing belefte  
OF all this grete maladie."

96\. Montefeltro was in the Franciscan monastery at Assisi.

102\. See Note 86 of this Canto. Dante calls the town Penestrino  
from  
its Latin name Praeneste.

105\. Pope Celestine V., who made "the great refusal," or  
abdication of the papacy. See Canto III. Note 59.

118\. Gower, Confes. Amantis, II.:-

"For shrifte stant of no value  
To him, that woll him nought vertue,  
To leve of vice the folie,  
For worde is wind, but the maistrie  
Is, that a man himself defende  
of thing whiche is nought to commende,  
Whereof ben fewe now a day."

Canto 28

1\. The Ninth Bolgia, in which are punished the Schismatics, and  
"where is paid the fee By those who sowing discord win their  
burden"; a burden difficult to describe even with untrammelled  
words, or in plain prose, free from the fetters of rhyme.

9\. Apulia, or La Puglia, is in the southeastern part of Italy,  
"between the spur and the heel of the boot."

10\. The people slain in the conquest of Apulia by the Romans. Of  
the battle of Maleventum, Livy, X. 15, says:-  
"Here likewise there was more of flight than of bloodshed. Two  
thousand of the Apulians were slain, and Decius,  
despising such an enemy, led his legions into Samnium."

11\. Hannibal's famous battle at Cannae, in the second Punic war.  
According to Livy, XXII. 49, "The number of the slain is computed  
at forty thousand foot, and two thousand seven hundred horse."  
He continues, XXII. 51, Baker's Tr.:"On the day following, as  
soon as light appeared, his troops applied themselves to the  
collecting of the spoils, and viewing the carnage made, which was  
such as shocked even enemies; so many thousand Romans, horsemen  
and footmen, lay promiscuously on the field, as chance had thrown  
them together, either in the battle, or flight. Some, whom their  
wounds, being pinched by the morning cold, had roused from their  
posture, were put to death by the enemy, as they were rising up,  
all covered with blood, from the midst of the heaps of carcasses.  
Some they found lying alive, with their thighs and hams cut, who,  
stripping their necks and throats, desired them to spill what  
remained of their blood. Some were found, with their heads buried  
in the earth, in holes which it appeared they had made for  
themselves, and covering their faces with earth thrown over them,  
had thus been suffocated. The attention of all was particularly  
attracted by a living Numidian with his nose and ears mangled,  
stretched under a dead Roman, who lay over him, and who, when his  
hands had been rendered unable to hold a weapon, his rage being  
exasperated to madness, had expired in the act of tearing his  
antagonist with his teeth."  
When Mago, son of Hamilcar, carried the news of the victory to  
Carthage, "in conformation of his joyful intelligence," says the  
same historian, XXIII. 12, "he ordered the gold rings taken from  
the Romans to be poured down in the porch of the senate-house,  
and of these there was so great a heap that, according to some  
writers, on being measured, they filled three pecks and a half;  
but the more general account, and likewise the more probable is,that they amounted to no more than one peck. He also explained to  
them, in order to show the greater extent of the slaughter, that  
none but those of equestrian rank, and of these only the  
principal, wore this ornament."

14\. Robert Guiscard, the renowned Norman conqueror of southern  
Italy. Dante places him in the Fifth Heaven of Paradise, in the planet  
Mars. For an account of his character and achievements see  
Gibbon, Ch. LVI. See also Parad. XVIII. Note 20.  
Matthew Paris, Giles's Tr., I. 171, A.D. 1239, gives the  
following account of the manner in which he captured the  
monastery of Monte Cassino:-  
"In the same year, the monks of Monte Cassino (where St. Benedict  
had planted a monastery), to the number of thirteen, came to the  
Pope in old and torn garments, with dishevelled hair and unshorn  
beards, and with tears in their eyes; and on being introduced to  
the presence of his Holiness, they fell at his feet, and laid a  
complaint that the Emperor had ejected them from their house at  
Monte Cassino. This mountain was impregnable, and indeed  
inaccessible to any one unless at the will of the monks and  
others who dwelt on it; however R. Guiscard, by a device,  
pretending that he was dead and being carried thither on a bier,  
thus took possession of the monks' castle. When the Pope heard  
this, he concealed his grief, and asked the reason; to which the  
monks replied, `Because, in obedience to you, we excommunicated  
the Emperor.' The Pope then said, `You obedience shall save you';  
on which the monks went away without receiving anything more from  
the Pope."

16\. The battle of Ceperano, near Monte Cassino, was fought in  
1265, between Charles of Anjou and Manfred, king of Apulia and Sicily.  
The Apulians, seeing the battle going against them, deserted  
their king and passed over to the enemy.

17\. The battle of Tagliacozzo in Abruzzo was fought in 1268,  
between Charles of Anjou and Curradino or Conradin, nephew of Manfred.  
Charles gained the victory by the strategy of Count Alardo di  
Valleri, who, "weaponless himself, Made arms ridiculous." This  
valiant but wary crusader persuaded the king to keep a third of  
his forces in reserve; and when the soldiers of Curradino,  
thinking they had won the day, were scattered over the field in  
pursuit of plunder, Charles fell upon them, and routed them.  
Alardo is mentioned in the Cento Novelle Antiche, Nov. LVII., as  
"celebrated for his wonderful prowess even among the chief  
nobles, and no less esteemed for his singular virtues than for  
his courage."

31\. Gibbon, ch. L., says:"At the conclusion of the Life of  
Mahomet, it may perhaps be expected that I should balance his  
faults and virtues, that I should decide whether the title of  
enthusiast or impostor more properly belongs to that extraordinary  
man. Had I been intimately conversant with the son of Abdallah,  
the task would still be difficult, and the success uncertain; at the  
distance of twelve centuries, I darkly contemplate his shade through  
a cloud of religious incense; and could I truly delineate the portrait  
of  
an hour, the fleeting resemblance would not equally apply to the  
solitary of Mount Hera, to the preacher of Mecca, and to the  
conqueror of Arabia... From enthusiasm to imposture the step is  
perilous and slippery; the daemon of Socrates affords a  
memorable instance how a wise man may deceive himself, how a good  
man may deceive others, how the conscience may slumber in a mixed  
and middle state between self-illusion and voluntary fraud." Of  
Ali, the son-in-law and faithful follower of Mahomet, he goes on  
to say: "He united the qualifications of a poet, a soldier, and a  
saint; his wisdom still breathes in a collection of moral and  
religious sayings; and every antagonist, in the combats of the  
tongue or of the sword, was subdued by his eloquence and valor.  
From the first hour of his mission to the last rites of his  
funeral, the apostle was never forsaken by a generous friend,  
whom he delighted to name his brother, his vice-gerent, and the  
faithful Aaron of a second Moses."

55\. Fra Dolcino was one of the early social and religious  
reformers in the North of Italy. His sect bore the name of "Apostles,"  
and  
its chief, if not only, heresy was a desire to bring back the  
Church to the simplicity of the apostolic times. In 1305 he  
withdrew with his followers to the mountains overlooking the Val  
Sesia in Piedmont, where he was pursued and besieged by the  
Church party, and, after various fortunes of victory and defeat,  
being reduced by "stress of snow" and famine, was taken prisoner,  
together with his companion, the beautiful Margaret of Trent.  
Both were burned at Vercelli on the 1st of June, 1307. This "last  
act of the tragedy" is thus described by Mr. Mariotti, Historical  
Memoir of Fra Dolcino and his Times, p. 290:-  
"Margaret of Trent enjoyed the precedence due to her sex. She was  
first led out into a spot near Vercelli, bearing the name of  
`Arena Servi,' or more properly `Arena Cervi,' in the sands, that  
is, of the torrent Cervo, which has its confluent with the Sesia  
at about one mile above the city. A high stake had been erected  
in a conspicuous part of the place. To this she was fastened, and  
a pile of wood was reared at her feet. The eyes of the  
inhabitants of town and country were upon her. On her also were  
the eyes of Dolcino. She was burnt alive with slow fire.  
"Next came the turn of Dolcino: he was seated high on a car drawn  
by oxen, and thus paraded from street to street all over  
Vercelli. His tormentors were all around him. Beside the car,  
iron pots were carried, filled with burning charcoals; deep in  
the charcoals were iron pincers, glowing at white heat. These  
pincers were continually applied to the various parts of  
Dolcino's naked body, all along his progress, till all his flesh  
was torn piecemeal from his limbs: when every bone was bare and  
the whole town was preambulated, they drove the still living  
carcass back to the same arena, and threw it on the burning mass  
in which Margaret had been consumed. "  
Farther on he adds:-  
"Divested of all fables which ignorance, prejudice, or open  
calumny involved it in, Dolcino's scheme amounted to nothing more  
than a reformation, not of religion, but of the Church; his aim  
was merely the destruction of the temporal power of the clergy,  
and he died for his country no less than for his God. The wealth,  
arrogance, and corruption of the Papal See appeared to him, as it  
appeared to Dante, as it appeared to a thousand other patriots  
before and after him, an eternal hindrance to the union, peace,  
and welfare of Italy, as it was a perpetual check upon the  
progress of the human race, and a source of infinite scandal to  
the piety of earnest believers...true throughout. If we bring  
the light of even the clumsiest criticism to bear on his creed,  
even such as it has been summed up by the ignorance of malignity  
of men who never utter his name without an imprecation, we have  
reason to be astonished at the little we find in it that may be  
construed into a wilful deviation from the strictest orthodoxy.  
Luther and Calvin would equally have repudiated him. He was  
neither a Presbyterian nor an Episcopalian, but an  
uncompromising, stanch Papist. His was, most eminently, the  
heresy of those whom we have designated as `literal Christians.'  
He would have the Gospel strictly - perhaps blindly-adhered to.  
Neither was that, in the abstract, an unpardonable offence in the  
eys of the Romanism of those times - witness St. Francis and his  
early flock-provided he had limited himself to make Gospel-law  
binding upon himself and his followers only. But Dolcino must  
needs enforce it upon the whole Christian community, enforce it  
especially on those who set up as teachers of the Gospel, on  
those who laid claim to Apostolical succession. That was the  
error that damned him."  
Of Margaret he still farther says, referring to some old  
manuscript as authority:-  
"She was known by the emphatic appellation of Margaret the  
Beautiful. It is added, that she was an orphan, heiress of noble  
parents, and had been placed for her education in a monastery of  
St. Catherine in Trent; that there Dolcino -who had also been a  
monk, or at least a novice, in a convent of the Order of the  
Humiliati, in the same town, and had been expelled in consequence  
either of his heretic tenets, or of immoral conduct-succeeded  
nevertheless in becoming domesticated in the nunnery of St.  
Catherine, as a steward or agent to the nuns, and there  
accomplished the fascination and abduction of the wealthy  
heiress."

59\. Val Sesia, among whose mountains Fra Dolcino was taken  
prisoner, is in the diocese of Novara.

73\. A Bolognese, who stirred up dissensions among the citizens.

74\. The plain of Lombardy sloping down two hundred miles and  
more, from Vercelli in Piedmont to Marcabo, a village near Ravenna.

76\. Guido del Cassero and Angiolello da Cagnano, two honorable  
citizens of Fano, going to Rimini by invitation of Malatestino,  
were by his order thrown into the sea and drowned, as here  
prophesied or narrated, near the village of Cattolica on the  
Adriatic.

85\. Malatestino had lost one eye.

86\. Rimini.

89\. Focara is a headland near Catolica, famous for dangerous  
winds, to be preserved from which mariners offered up vows and prayers.  
These men will not need to do it; they will not reach that cape.

102\. Curio, the banished Tribune, who, fleeing to Caesar's camp  
on the Rubicon, urged him to advance upon Rome. Lucan, Pharsalia,  
I., Rowe's Tr.:-

"To Caesar's camp the busy Curio fled;  
Curio, a speaker turbulent and bold,  
Of venal eloquence, that served for gold,  
And principles that might be bought and sold.

To Caesar thus, while thousand cares infest,  
Revolving round the warrior's anxious breast,  
His speech the ready orator addressed.

`Haste, then, thy towering eagles on their way;  
When fair occasion calls, `t is fatal to delay.'"

106\. Mosca degl'Uberti, or dei Lamberti, who, by advising the  
murder of Buondelmonte, gave rise to the parties of Guelf and  
Ghibelline, which so long divided Florence. See Canto X. Note 51.

134\. Bertrand de Born, the turbulent Troubadour of the last half  
of the twelfth century, was alike skilful with his pen and his  
sword, and passed his life in alternately singing and fighting,  
and in stirring up dissension and strife among his neighbors. He  
is the author of that spirited war-song, well known to all  
readers of Troubadour verse, beginning

"The beautiful spring delights me well,  
When flowers and leaves are growing;  
And it pleases my heart to hear the swell  
Of the birds' sweet chorus flowing  
In the echoing wood;  
And I love to see, all scattered around,  
Pavilions and tents on the martial ground;  
And my spirit finds it good,  
To see, on the level plains beyond  
Gay knights and steeds caparison'd";-

and ending with a challenge to Richard Coeur de Lion,  
telling his minstrel Papiol to go

"And tell the Lord of `Yes and No'  
That peace already too long has been."

"Bertrand de Born," says the old Provenal biography, published by  
Raynouard, Choix de Poesies Originales des Troubadours, V. 76,  
"was a chatelain of the bishopric of Perigueux, Viscount of  
Hautefort, a castle with nearly a thousand retainers. He had a  
brother, and would have dispossessed him of his inheritance, had  
it not been for the king of England. He was always at war with  
all his neighbors, with the Count of Perigueux, and with the  
Viscount of Limoges, and with his brother Constantine, and with  
Richard, when he was count of Poitou. He was a good cavalier, and  
a good warrior, and a good lover, and a good troubadour; and well  
informed and well spoken; and knew well how to bear good and evil  
fortune. Whenever he wished, he was master of King Henry of  
England and of his son; but always desired that father and son  
should be at war with each other, and one brother with the other.  
And he always wished that the king of France and the king of  
England should be at variance; and if there were either peace or  
truce, straightway he sought and endeavored by his satires to  
undo the peace, and to show how each was dishonored by it. And he  
had great advantages and great misfortunes by thus exciting feuds  
between them. He wrote many satires, but only two songs. The king  
of Aragon called the songs of Giraud de Borneil the wives of  
Bertrand de Born's satires. And he who sang for him bore the name  
of Papiol. And he was handsome and courteous; and called the  
Count of Britany, Rassa; and the king of England, Yes and No; and  
his son, the young king, Marinier. And he set his whole heart on  
fomenting war; and embroiled the father and son of England, until  
the young king was killed by an arrow in a castle of Bertrand de  
Born.  
"And Bertrand used to boast that he had more wits than he needed.  
And when the king took him prisoner, he asked him, `Have you all  
your wits, for you will need them now?' And he answered, `I lost  
them all when the young king died.' Then the king wept, and  
pardoned him, and gave him robes, and lands, and honors. And he  
lived long and became a Cistercian monk."  
Fauriel, Histoire de la Poesie Provenale, Adler's Tr., p. 483,  
quoting part of this passage, adds:-  
"In this notice the old biographer indicates the dominant trait  
of Bertrand's character very distinctly; it was an unbridled  
passion for war. He loved it not only as the occasion for  
exhibiting proofs of valor, for acquiring power, and for winning  
glory, but also, and even more on account of its hazards, on  
account of the exaltation of courage and of life which it  
produced, nay, even for the sake of the tumult, the disorders,  
and the evils which are accustomed to follow in its train.  
Bertrand de Born is the ideal of the undisciplined and  
adventuresome warrior of the Middle Age, rather than that of the  
chevalier in the proper sense of the term."  
See also Millot, Hist. Litt. des Troubadours, I. 210, and Hist.  
Litt. de la France par les Benedictins de St. Maur,  
continuation, XVII. 425. Bertrand de Born, if not the best of the  
Troubadours, is the most prominent and striking character among  
them. His life is a drama full of romantic interest; beginning  
with the old castle in Gascony, "the dames, the cavaliers, the  
arms, the loves, the courtesy, the bold emprise"; and ending in a  
Cistercian convent, among friars and fastings and penitence and  
prayers.

135\. A vast majority of manuscripts and printed editions read in  
this line, Re Giovanni, King John, instead of Re Giovane, the Young  
King. Even Boccaccio's copy, which he wrote out with his own had  
for Petrarca, has Re Giovanni. Out of seventy-nine Codici  
examined by Barlow, he says, Study of the Divina Commedia, p.  
153, "Only five were found with the correct reading-re  
giovane... The reading re giovane is not found in any of the  
early editions, nor is it noticed by any of the early  
commentators." Se also Ginguene, Hist. Litt. de l'Italie, II,  
486, where the subject is elaborately discussed, and the note of  
Biagioli, who takes the opposite side of the question.  
Henry II. of England had four sons, all of whom were more or less  
rebellious against him. They were, Henry, surnamed Curt-Mantle,  
and called by the Troubadours and novelists of his time "The  
Young King," because he was crowned during his father's life;  
Richard Coeur-de-Lion, Count of Guienne and Poitou; Geoffroy,  
Duke of Brittany; and John Lackland. Henry was the only one of  
these who bore the title of king at the time in question.  
Bertrand de Born was on terms of intimacy with him, and speaks of  
him in his poems as lo Reys joves, sometimes lauding, and  
sometimes reproving him. One of the best of these poems in his  
Complainte, on the death of Henry, which took place in 1183, from  
disease, say some accounts, from the bolt of a crossbow say  
others. He complains that he has lost "the best king that was  
ever born of mother"; and goes on to say, "King of the courteous,  
and emperor of the valiant, you would have been Seigneur if you  
had lived longer; for you bore the name of the Young King, and  
were the chief and peer of youth. Ay! hauberk and sword, and  
beautiful buckler, helmet and gonfalon, and purpoint and sark,  
and joy and love, there is none to maintain them!" See Raynouard,  
Choix de Poesies, IV. 49. In the Bible Guiot de Provins,  
Barbazan, Fabliaux et Contes, II. 518, he is spoken of as "li  
jones Rois, Li proux, li saiges, li cortois." In the Cento  
Novelle Antiche, XVIII., XIX., XXXV., he is called il Re Giovane;  
and in Roger de Wendover's Flowers of History, A. D. 1179-1183,  
"Henry the Young King."  
It was to him that Bertrand de Born "gave the evil counsels,"  
embroiling him with his father and his brothers. Therefore, when  
the commentators challenge us as Pistol does Shallow, "Under  
which king, Bezonian? speak or die!" I think we must answer as  
Shallow does, "Under King Harry."

137\. See 2 Samuel xvii. I, 2:- "Moreover, Ahithophel said unto  
Absalom, let me now choose out twelve thousand men, and I will  
arise and pursue after David this night. And I will come upon him  
while he is weary and weak-handed, and will make him afraid; and  
all the people that are with him shall flee; and I will smite the  
king only."  
Dryden, in his poem of Absalom and Achitophel, gives this  
portrait of the latter:-

"Of these the false Achitophel was first;  
A name to all succeeding ages curst;  
For close designs and crooked counsels fit;  
Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit;  
Restless, unfix'd in principles and place;  
In power unpleas'd, impatient of disgrace:  
A fiery soul, which, working out its way,  
Fretted the pigmy body to decay,  
And o'er inform'd the tenement of clay."

Then he puts into the mouth of Archiophel the following

"Auspicious prince, at whose nativity  
Some royal planet rul'd the southern sky;  
Thy longing country's darling and desire;  
Their cloudy pillar and their guardian fire;  
Their second Moses, whose extended wand  
Divides the seas, and shows the promised land;  
Whose dawning day, in every distant age,  
Has exercised the sacred prophet's rage;  
The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme,  
The young men's vision, and the old men's dream."

Canto 29

1\. The Tenth and last "cloister of Malebolge," where

"Justice infallible  
Punishes forgers,"

and falsifiers of all kinds. This Canto is devoted to the  
alchemists.

27\. Geri del Bello was a disreputable member of the Alighieri  
family, and was murdered by one of the Sacchetti. His death was  
afterwards avenged by his brother, who in turn slew one of the  
Sacchetti at the door of his house.

29\. Bertrand de Born.

35\. Like the ghost of Ajax in the Odyssey, XI. "He answered me  
not at all, but went to Erebus amongst the other souls of the dead. "

36\. Dante seems to share the feeling of the Italian vendetta,  
which required retaliation from some member of the injured family.  
"Among the Italians of this age," says Napier, Florentine Hist.,  
I. Ch. VII., "and for centuries after, private offence was never  
forgotten until revenged, and generally involved a succession of  
mutual injuries; vengeance was not only considered lawful and  
just, but a positive duty, dishonorable to omit; and, as may be  
learned from ancient private journals, it was sometimes allowed  
to sleep for five-and-thirty years, and then suddently struck a  
victim who perhaps had not yet seen the light when the original  
injury was inflicted."

46\. The Val di Chiana, near Arezzo, was in Dante's time marshy  
and pestilential. Now, by the effect of drainage, it is one of the  
most beautiful and fruitful of the Tuscan valleys. The Maremma  
was and is notoriously unhealthy; see Canto XIII. Note 9, and  
Sardinia would seem to have shared its ill repute.

57\. Forgers or falsifiers in a general sense. The "false  
semblaunt" of Gower, Confes. Amant., II.:-

"Of fals semblaunt if I shall telle,  
Above all other it is the welle  
Out of the which deceipte floweth."  
They are registered here on earth to be punished hereafter.

59\. The plague of Aegina is described by Ovid, Metamorph. VII.,  
Stonestreet's Tr.:-

"Their black dry tongues are swelled, and scarce can move,  
And short thick sighs from panting lungs are drove.  
They gape for air, with flatt'ring hopes t'abate  
Their raging flames, but that augments their heat.  
No bed, no cov'ring can the wretches bear,  
But on the ground, exposed to open air,  
They lie, and hope to find a pleasing coolness there.  
The suff'ring earth, with that oppression curst,  
Returns the heat which they imparted first.

Here one, with fainting steps, does slowly creep  
O'er heaps of dead, and straight augments the heap;  
Another, while his strength and tongue prevailed,  
Bewails his friend, and falls himself bewailed;  
This with imploring looks surveys the skies,  
The last dear office of his closing eyes,  
But finds the Heav'ns implacable, and dies."

The birth of the Myrmidons, "who still retain the thrift of ants,  
though now transformed to men," is thus given in the same book:-

"As many ants the num'rous branches bear,  
The same their labor, and their frugal care;  
The branches too alike commotion found,  
And shook th' industrious creatures on the ground,  
Who by degrees (what's scarce to be believed)  
A nobler form and larger bulk received,  
And on the earth walked an unusual pace,  
With manly strides, and an erected face;  
Their num'rous legs, and former color lost  
The insects could a human figure boast."

88\. Latian, or Italian; any one of the Latin race.

109\. The speaker is a certain Griffolino, an alchemist of Arezzo,  
who practised upon the credulity of Albert, a natural son of the  
Bishop of Siena. For this he was burned; but was "condemned to  
the last Bolgia of the ten for alchemy."

116\. The inventor of the Cretan labyrinth. Ovid, Metamorph.  
VIII.: -

"Great Daedalus of Athens was the man  
Who made the draught, and formed the wondrous plan."  
Not being able to find his way out of the labyrinth, he made  
wings for himself and his son Icarus, and escaped by flight.

122\. Speaking of the people of Siena, Forsyth, Italy, 532, says:  
"Vain, flighty, fanciful, they want the judgment and penetration  
of their Florentine neighbors; who, nationally severe, call a  
nail without a head chiodo Sanese. The accomplished Signora  
Rinieri told me, that her father, while Governor of Siena, was  
once stopped in his carriage by a crowd at Florence, where the  
mob, recognizing him, called out: `Lasciate passare il  
Governatore de' matti.' A native of Siena is presently know at  
Florence; for his very walk, being formed to a hilly town,  
detects him on the plain."

125\. The persons here mentioned gain a kind of immortality from  
Dante's verse. The Stricca, or Baldastricca, was a lawyer of  
Siena; and Niccolo dei Salimbeni, or Bonsignori, introduced the  
fashion of stuffing pheasants with cloves, or, as Benvenuto says,  
of roasting them at a fire of cloves. Though Dante mentions them  
apart, they seem, like the two others named afterwards, to have  
been members of the Brigata Spendereccia, or Prodigal Club, of  
Siena, whose extravagances are recorded by Benvenuto da Imola.  
This club consisted of "twelve very rich young gentlemen, who  
took it into their heads to do things that would make a great  
part of the world wonder." Accordingly each contributed eighteen  
thousand golden florins to a common fund, amounting in all to two  
hundred and sixteen thousand florins. They built a palace, in  
which each member had a splendid chamber, and they gave sumptuous  
dinners and suppers; ending their banquets sometimes by throwing  
all the dishes, table- ornaments, and knives of gold and silver  
out of the window. "This silly institution," continues Benvenuto,  
"lasted only ten months, the treasury being exhausted, and the  
wretched members became the fable and laughing-stock of all the  
world." In honor of this club, Folgore da San Geminiano, a clever  
poet of the day (1260) , wrote a series of twelve convivial  
sonnets, one for each month of the year, with Dedication and  
Conclusion. A translation of these sonnets may be found in D. G.  
Rossetti's Early Italian Poets. The Dedication runs as  
follows:-

"Unto the blithe and lordly Fellowship,  
(I know not where, but wheresoe'er, I know,  
Lordly and blithe,) be greeting; and thereto,  
Dogs, hawks, and a full purse wherein to dip;  
Quails struck i' the flight; nags mettled to the whip;  
Hart-hounds, hare-hounds, and blood-hounds even so;  
And o'er that realm, a crown for Niccolo,  
Whose praise in Siena springs from lip to lip.  
Tingoccio, Atuin di Togno, and Ancaian,  
Bartolo, and Mugaro, and Faenot,  
Who well might pass for children of King Ban,  
Courteous and valiant more than Lancelot,  
To each, God speed! How worthy every man  
To hold high tournament in Camelot."

136\. "This Capocchio," says the Ottimo, "was a very subtle  
alchemist; and because he was burned for practising alchemy in Siena,  
he  
exhibits his hatred to the Sienese, and gives us to understand  
that the author knew him."

Canto 30

1\. In this Canto the same Bolgia is continued, with different  
kinds of Falsifiers.

4\. Athamas, king of Thebes and husband of Ino, daughter of  
Cadmus.  
His madness is thus described by Ovid, Metamorph. IV., Eusden's  
Tr.:-

"Now Athamas cries out, his reason fled,  
`Here, fellow-hunters, let the toils be spread.  
I saw a lioness, in quest of food,  
With her two young, run roaring in this wood.'  
Again the fancied savages were seen,  
As thro' his palace still he chased his queen;  
Then tore Learchus from her breast: the child  
Streched little arms, and on its father smiled,-  
A father now no more,-who now begun  
Around his head to whirl his giddy son,  
And, quite insensible to nature's call,  
The helpless infant flung against the wall.  
The same mad poison in the mother wrought;  
Young Melicerta in her arms she caught,  
And with disordered tresses, howling, flies,  
`O Bacchus, Evoe, Bacchus!' loud she cries.  
The name of Bacchus Juno laughed to hear,  
And said, `Thy foster-god has cost thee dear.'  
A rock there stood, whose side the beating waves  
Had long consumed, and hollowed into caves.  
The head shot forwards in a bending steep,  
And cast a dreadful covert o'er the deep.  
The wretched Ino, on destruction bent,  
Climbed up the cliff,-such strength her fury lent:  
Thence with her guiltless boy, who wept in vain,  
At one bold spring she plunged into the main."

16\. Hecuba, wife of Priam of Troy, and mother of Polyxena and  
Polydorus. Ovid, XIII., Stanyan's Tr.:-

"When on the banks her son in ghastly hue  
Transfixed with Thracian arrows strikes her view,  
The matrons shrieked; her big swoln grief surpassed  
The power of utterance; she stood aghast;  
She had nor speech, nor tears to give relief:  
Excess of woe suppressed the rising grief.  
Lifeless as stone, on earth she fix'd her eyes;  
And then look'd up to Heav'n with wild surprise,  
Now she contemplates o'er with sad delight  
Her son's pale visage; then her aking sight  
Dwells on his wounds: she varies thus by turns,  
Till with collected rage at length she burns,  
Wild as the mother-lion, when among  
The haunts of prey she seeks her ravished young:  
Swift flies the ravisher; she marks his trace,  
And by the print directs her anxious chase.  
So Hecuba with mingled grief and rage  
Pursues the king, regardless of her age.

Fastens her forky fingers in his eyes;  
Tears out the rooted balls; her rage pursues,  
And in the hollow orbs her hand imbrues.  
"The Thracians, fired at this inhuman scene,  
With darts and stones assail the frantic queen.  
She snarls and growls, nor in an human tone;  
Then bites impatient at the bounding stone;  
Extends her jaws, as she her voice would raise  
To keen invectives in her wonted phrase;  
But barks, and thence the yelping brute betrays."

31\. Griffolino d'Arezzo, mentioned in Canto XXIX. 109.

42\. The same "mad sprite," Gianni Schicchi, mentioned in line 32.  
"Buoso Donati of Florence," says Benvenuto, "although a nobleman  
and of an illustrious house, was nevertheless like other noblemen  
of his time, and by means of thefts had greatly increased his  
patrimony. When the hour of death drew near, the sting of  
conscience caused him to make a will in which he gave fat  
legacies to many people; whereupon his son Simon, (the Ottimo  
says his nephew,) thinking himself enormously aggrieved, suborned  
Vanni Schicchi dei Cavalcanti, who got into Buoso's bed, and made  
a will in opposition to the other. Gianni much resembled Buoso."  
In this will Gianni Schicchi did not forget himself, while making  
Simon heir; for, according to the Ottimo, he put this clause into  
it: "To Gianni Schicchi I bequeath my mare." This was the "lady  
of the herd," and Benvenuto adds, "none more beautiful was to be  
found in Tuscany; and it was valued at a thousand florins."

61\. Messer Adamo, a false-coiner of Brescia, who at the  
instigation of the Counts Guido, Alessandro, and Aghinolfo of Romena,  
counterfeited the golden florin of Florence, which bore on one  
side a lily, and on the other the figure of John the Baptist.

64\. Tasso, Gerusalemme, XIII. 60, Fairfax's Tr.:-

"He that the gliding rivers erst had seen  
Adown their verdant channels gently rolled,  
Or falling streams, which to the valleys green,  
Distilled from tops of Alpine mountains cold,  
Those he desired in vain, new torments been  
Augumented thus with wish of comforts old;  
Those waters cool he drank in vain conceit,  
Which more increased his thirst, increased his heat."

65\. The upper valley of the Arno is in the province of  
Cassentino.  
Quoting these three lines, Ampere, Voyage Dantesque, 246, says:  
"In these untranslatable verses, there is a feeling of humid  
freshness, which almost makes one shudder. I owe it to truth to  
say, that the Cassentine was a great deal less fresh and less  
verdant in reality than in the poetry of Dante, and that in the  
midst of the aridity which surrounded me, this poetry, by its  
very perfection, made one feel something of the punishment of  
Master Adam."

73\. Forsyth, Italy, 116, says: "The castle of Romena, mentioned  
in these verses, now stands in ruins on a precipice about a mile  
from our inn, and not far off is a spring which the peasants call  
Fonte Branda. Might I presume to differ from his commentators,  
Dante, in my opinion, does not mean the great fountain of Siena,  
but rather this obscure spring; which, though less known to the world,  
was an object more familiar to the poet himself, who took refuge  
here from proscription, and an image more natural to the coiner who was  
burnt on the spot. "  
Ampere is of the same opinion, Voyage Dantesque, 246: "The Fonte  
Branda, mentioned by Master Adam, is assuredly the fountain thus  
named, which still flows not far from the tower of Romena,  
between the place of the crime and that of its punishment." On  
the other hand, Mr. Barlow, Contributions, remarks: "This little  
fount was known only to so few, that Dante, who wrote for the  
Italian people generally, can scarcely be thought to have meant  
this, when the famous Fonte Branda at Siena was, at least by  
name, familiar to them all, and formed an image more in character  
with the insatiable thirst of Master Adam."  
Poetically the question is of slight importance; for, as Fluellen  
says, "There is a river in Macedon, and there is also moreover a  
river at Monmount,...and there is salmons in both."

86\. This line and line II of Canto XXIX. are cited by Gabrielle  
Rossetti in confirmation of his theory of the "Principal Allegory  
of the Inferno," that the city of Dis is Rome. He says, Spirito  
Antipapale, I. 62, Miss Ward's Tr.:-  
"This well is surrounded by a high wall, and the wall by a vast  
trench; the circuit of the trench is twenty-two miles, and that  
of the wall eleven miles. Now the outward trench of the walls of  
Rome (whether real or imaginary we say not) was reckoned by  
Dante's contemporaries to be exactly twenty-two miles; and the  
walls of the city were then, and still are, eleven miles round.  
Hence it is clear, that the wicked time which looks into Rome, as  
into a mirror, sees there the corrupt place which is the final  
goal to its waters or people, that is, the figurative Rome,  
`dread seat of Dis.'"  
The trench here spoken of is the last trench of Malebolge. Dante  
mentions no wall about the well; only giants standiing round it  
like towers.

97\. Potiphar's wife.

98\. Virgil's "perjured Sinon," the Greek who persuaded the  
Trojans to accept the wooden horse, telling them it was meant to  
protect the city, in lieu of the statue of Pallas, stolen by Diomed and  
Ulysses.  
Chaucer, Nonnes Preestes Tale:-

"O false dissimilour, O Greek Sinon,  
That broughtest Troye at utterly to sorwe."

103\. The disease of tympanites is so called "because the abdomen  
is distended with wind, and sounds like a drum when struck."

128\. Ovid, Metamorph. III.:-

"A fountain in a darksome wood,  
Nor stained with falling leaves nor rising mud."

Canto 31

1\. This Canto describes the Plain of the Giants, between  
Malebolge and the mouth of the Infernal Pit.

4\. Iliad, XVI.: "A Pelion ash, which Chiron gave to his  
(Achilles') father, cut from the top of Mount Pelion, to be the  
death of heroes."  
Chaucer, Squieres Tale:-

"And of Achilles for his queinte spere,  
For he coude with it bothe hele and drere."

And Shakespeare, in King Henry the Sixth, V. i.:-

"Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear,  
Is able with the change to kill and cure."

16\. The battle of Roncesvalles,

"When Charlemain with all his peerage fell  
By Fontarabia."

18\. Archbishop Turpin, Chronicle, XXIII., Rodd's Tr., thus  
describes the blowing or Orlando's horn:-  
"He now blew a loud blast with his horn, to summon any Christian  
concealed in the adjacent woods to his assistance, or to recall  
his friends beyond the pass. This horn was endued with such  
power, that all other horns were split by its sound; and it is  
said that Orlando at that time blew it with such vehemence, that  
he burst the veins and nerves of his neck. The sound reached the  
king's ears, who lay encamped in the valley still called by his  
name, about eight miles from Ronceval, towards Gascony, being  
carried so far by supernatural power. Charles would have flown to  
his succor, but was prevented by Ganalon, who, conscious of  
Orlando's sufferings, insinuated it was usual with him to sound  
his horn on light occasions. `He is, perhaps', said he, `pursuing  
some wild beast, and the sound echoes through the woods; it will  
be fruitless, therefore, to seek him.' O wicked traitor,  
deceitful as Judas! What dost thou merit?"  
Walter Scott in Marmion, VI. 33, makes allusion to Orlando's  
horn: -

"O for a blast of that dread horn,  
On Fontarabian echoes borne,  
That to King Charles did come,  
When Rowland brave, and Oliver,  
And every paladin and peer,  
On Roncesvalles died!"

Orlando's horn is one of the favorite fictions of old romance,  
and is surpassed in power only by that of Alexander, which took  
sixty men to blow it and could be heard at a distance of sixty  
miles!

41\. Montereggione is a picturesque old castle on an eminence near  
Siena. Ampere, Vogage Dantesque, 251, remarks: "This fortress,  
as the commentators say, was furnished with towers all round  
about, and had none in the centre. In its present state it is  
still very faithfully described by the verse, 'Montereggion de  
torri si corona.'"

59\. This pine-cone of bronze, which is now in the gardens of the  
Vatican, was found in the mausoleum of Hadrian, and is supposed  
to have crowned its summit. "I have looked daily", says Mrs.  
Kemble, Year of Consolation, 152, "over the lonely, sunny  
gardens, open like the palace halls to me, where the widesweeping  
orange-walks end in some distant view of the sad and noble  
Campagna, where silver fountains call to each other through the  
silent, over-arching cloisters of dark and fragrant green, and  
where the huge bronze pine, by which Dante measured his great  
giant, yet stands in the midst of graceful vases and bass-reliefs  
wrought in former ages, and the more graceful blossoms blown  
within the very hour." And Ampere, Voyage Dantesque, 277,  
remarks:  
"Here Dante takes as a point of comparison an object of  
determinate size; the pigna is eleven feet high, the giant then  
must be seventy; it performs, in the description, the office of  
those figures which are placed near monuments to render it easier  
for the eye to measure their height."  
Mr. Norton, Travel and Study in Italy, 253, thus speaks of the  
same object:  
"This pine-cone, of bronze, was set originally upon the summit of  
the Mausoleum of Hadrian. After this imperial sepulchre had  
undergone many evil fates, and as its ornaments were stripped one  
by one from it, the cone was in the sixth century taken down, and  
carried off to adorn a fountain, which had been constructed for  
the use of dusty and thirsty pilgrims, in a pillared enclosure,  
called the Paradiso, in front of the old basilica of St. Peter.  
Here it remained for centuries; and when the old church gave way  
to the new, it was put where it now stands, useless and out of  
place, in the trim and formal gardens of the Papal palace." And  
adds in a note:-  
"At the present day it serves the bronze-workers of Rome as a  
model for an inkstand, such as is seen in the shop windows every  
winter, and is sold to travellers, few of whom know the history  
and the poetry belonging to its original."

67\. "The gaping monotony of this jargon", says Leigh Hunt, "full  
of the vowel a, is admirably suited to the mouth of the vast half-  
stupid speaker. It is like a babble of the gigantic infancy of  
the world."

77\. Nimrod, the "mighty hunter before the Lord", who built the  
tower of Babel, which, according to the Italian popular tradition, was  
so high that whoever mounted to the top of it could hear the  
angels sing.  
Cory, Ancient Fragments, 51, gives this extract from the  
Sibylline Oracles:-  
"But when the judgments of the Almighty God Were ripe for  
execution, when the Tower Rose to the skies upon Assyria's plain,  
And all mankind one language only knew; A dread commission from  
on high was given To the fell whirlwinds, which with dire alarms  
Beat on the Tower, and to its lowest base Shook it convulsed. And  
now all intercourse, By some occult and overruling power, Ceased  
among men: by utterance they strove Perplexed and anxious to  
disclose their mind; But their lip failed them, and in lieu of  
words Produced a painful babbling sound: the place Was thence  
called Babel; by th' apostate crew Named from the event. Then  
severed far away They sped uncertain into realms unknown; Thus  
kingdoms rose, and the glad world was filled."

94\. Odyssey, XI., Buckley's Tr.:  
"God-like Otus and far-famed Ephialtes; whom the faithful earth  
nourished, the tallest and far the most beautiful, at least after  
illustrious Orion. For at nine years old they were also nine  
cubits in width, and in height they were nine fathoms. Who even  
threatened the immortals that they would set up a strife of  
impetuous war in Olympus. They attempted to place Ossa upon  
Olympus, and upon Ossa leafy Pelion, that heaven might be  
accessible. And they would have accomplished it, if they had  
reached the measure of youth; but the son of Jove, whom  
fair-haired Latona bore, destroyed them both, before the down  
flowered under their temples and thickened upon their cheeks with  
a flowering beard."

98\. The giant with a hundred hands. Aeneid, X.:  
"Aegaeon, who, they say, had a hundred arms and a hundred  
hands, and flashed fire from fifty mouths and breasts; when  
against the thunder-bolts of Jove he on so many equal bucklers  
clashed; unsheathed so many swords." He is supposed to have been  
a famous pirate, and the fable of the hundred hands arose from  
the hundred sailors that manned his ship.

100\. The giant Antaeus is here unbound, because he had not been  
at "the mighty war" against the gods.

115\. The valley of the Bagrada, one of whose branches flows by  
Zama, the scene of Scipo's great victory over Hannibal, by which he  
gained his greatest renown and his title of Africanus.  
Among the neighboring hills, according to Lucan, Pharsalia, IV. ,  
the giant Antaeus had his cave. Speaking of Curio's voyage, he  
says:-

"To Afric's coast he cuts the foamy way,  
Where low the once victorious Carthage lay.  
There landing, to the well-known camp he hies,  
Where from afar the distant seas he spies;  
Where Bagrada's dull waves the sands divide,  
And slowly downward roll their sluggish tide.  
From thence he seeks the highest renowned by fame,  
And hallowed by the great Cornelian name:  
The rocks and hills which long, traditions say,  
Where held by huge Antaeus' horrid sway.  
But greater deeds this rising mountain grace,  
And Scipio's name ennobles much the place,  
While, fixing here his famous camp, he calls  
Fierce Hannibal from Rome's devoted walls.  
As yet the mouldering works remain in view,  
Where dreadful once the Latin eagles flew."

124\. |Aeneid, VI.: "Here too you might have seen Tityus,  
the foster-child of all-bearing earth, whose body is extended  
over nine whole acres; and a huge vulture, with her hooked  
beak, pecking at his immortal liver." Also Odyssey, XI., in  
similar words.  
Typhoeus was a giant wih a hundred heads, like a dragon's who  
made war upon the gods as soon as he was born. He was the father  
of Geryon and Cerberus.

132\. The battle between Hercules and Antaeus is described by  
Lucan, Pharsalia, IV.:-

"Bright in Olympic oil Alcides shone,  
Antaeus with his mother's dust is strown,  
And seeks her friendly force to aid his own."

136\. One of the leaning towers of Bologna, which Eustace,  
Classical Tour, I. 167, thinks are "remarkable only for their unmeaning  
elevation and dangerous deviation from the perpendicular."

Canto 32

1\. In this Canto begins the Ninth and last Circle of the Inferno,  
where Traitors are punished.

"Hence in the smallest circle, at the point  
Of all the Universe, where Dis is seated,  
Whoe'er betrays forever is consumed."

3\. The word thrust is here used in its architectural sense, as  
the thrust of a bridge against its abutments, and the like.

9\. Still using the babble of childhood.

11\. The Muses; the poetic tradition being that Amphion built the  
walls of Thebes by the sound of his lyre; and the prosaic  
interpretation, that he did it by his persuasive eloquence.

15\. Matthew xxvi. 24: "Woe unto that man by whom the son of  
man is betrayed! it had been good for that man if he had not been  
born."

28\. Tambernich is a mountain of Sclavonia, and Pietrapana another  
near Lucca.

55\. These two "miserable brothers" are Alessandro and Napoleone,  
sons of Alberto degli Alberti, lord of Falterona in the valley of the  
Bisenzio. After their father's death they quarrelled, and one  
treacherously slew the other.

58\. Caina is the first of the four divisions of this Circle, and  
takes its name from the first fratricide.

62\. Sir Mordred, son of King Arthur. See La Mort d'Arthure, III.  
ch. 167: "And there King Arthur smote Sir Mordred under the shield  
with a foine of his speare throughout the body more than a  
fadom."  
Nothing is said here of the sun's shining through the wound, so  
as to break the shadow on the ground, but that incident is  
mentioned in the Italian version of the Romance of Launcelot of  
the Lake, L'illustre e famosa istoria di Lancillotto del Lago,  
III. ch. 162: "Behind the opening made by the lance there passed  
through the wound a ray of the sun so manifestly, that Girflet  
saw it. "

63\. Focaccia was one of the Cancellieri Bianchi, of Pistoia, and  
was engaged in the affair of cutting off the hand of his  
half-brother. See Note 65, Canto VI. He is said also to have  
killed his uncle.

65\. Sassol Mascheroni, according to Benvenuto, was one of the  
Toschi family of Florence. He murdered his nephew in order to get  
possession of his property; for which crime he was carried  
through the streets of Florence nailed up in a cask, and then  
beheaded.

68\. Camicion de' Pazzi of Valdarno, who murdered his kinsman  
Ubertino. But his crime will seem small and excusable when  
compared with that of another kinsman, Carlino de' Pazzi, who  
treacherously surrendered the castle of Piano in Valdarno,  
wherein many Florentine exiles were taken and put to death.

81\. The speaker is Bocca degli Abati, whose treason caused the  
defeat of the Guelfs at the famous battle of Montaperti in 1260. See  
Note 86, Canto X. "Messer Bocca degli Abati, the traitor," says  
Malispini, Storia, ch. 171, "with his sword in hand, smote and cut off  
the hand of Messer Jacopo de' Pazzi of Florence, who bore the  
standard of the cavalry of the Commune of Florence. And the  
knights and the people, seeing the standard down, and the treachery,  
were put to rout."

88\. The second division of the Circle, called Antenora, from  
Antenor, the Trojan prince, who betrayed his country by keeping up a  
secret correspondence with the Greeks. Virgil, Aeneid, I. 242,  
makes him founder of Padua.

106\. See Note 81 of this Canto.

116\. Buoso da Duera of Cremona, being bribed, suffered the French  
cavalry under Guido da Monforte to pass through Lombardy on their  
way to Apulia, without opposing them as he had been commanded.

117\. There is a double meaning in the Italian expression sta  
fresco, which is well rendered by the vulgarism, left out in the cold,  
so  
familiar in American politics.

119\. Beccaria of Pavia, Abbot of Vallombrosa, and Papal Legate at  
Florence, where he was beheaded in 1258 for plotting against the  
Guelfs.

121\. Gianni de' Soldanieri, of Florence, a Ghibelline, who  
betrayed his party. Villani, VII, 14, says: "Messer Gianni de'  
Soldanieri  
put himself at the head of the populace from motives of ambition,  
regardless of consequences which were injurious to the Ghibelline  
party, and to his own detriment, which seems always to have been  
the case in Florence with those who became popular leaders."

122\. The traitor Ganellon, or Ganalon, who betrayed the Christian  
cause at Roncesvalles, persuading Charlemagne not to go to the  
assistance of Orlando. See Canto XXXI. Note 18.  
Tebaldello de' Manfredi treacherously opened the gates of Faenza  
to the French in the night.

130\. Tydeus, son of the king of Calydon, slew Menalippus at the  
siege of Thebes and was himself mortally wounded. Statius, Thebaid,  
VIII. , thus describes what followed:-

O'ercome with joy and anger, Tydeus tries  
To raise himself, and meets with eager eyes  
The deathful object, pleased as he surveyed  
His own condition in his foe's portrayed.  
The severed head impatient he demands,  
And grasps with fever in his trembling hands,  
While he remarks the restless balls of sight  
That sought and shunned alternately the light.  
Contented now, his wrath began to cease,  
And the fierce warrior had expired in peace;  
But the fell fiend a thought of vengeance bred,  
Unworthy of himself and of the dead.  
Meanwhile, her sire unmoved, Tritonia came,  
To crown her hero with immortal fame;  
But when she saw his jaws besprinkled o'er  
With spattered brains, and tinged with living gore,  
Whilst his imploring friends attempt in vain  
To calm his fury, and his rage restrain,  
Again, recoiling from the loathsome view,  
The sculptur'd target o'er her face she threw."

Canto 33

1\. In this Canto the subject of the preceding is continued.

13\. Count Ugolino della Ghererardesca was Podesta of Pisa.  
"Raised to the highest offices of the republic for ten years," says  
Napier, Florentine History, I. 318, "he would soon have become  
absolute, had not his own nephew, Nino Visconte, Judge of  
Gallura, contested this supremacy and forced himself into  
conjoint and equal authority; this could not continue, and a sort  
of compromise was for the moment effected, by which Visconte  
retired to the absolute government of Sardinia. But Ugolino,  
still dissatisfied, sent his son to disturb the island; a deadly  
feud was the consequence, Guelph against Guelph, while the latent  
spirit of Ghibellinism, which filled the breasts of the citizens  
and was encouraged by priest and friar, felt its advantage; the  
Archbishop Ruggiero Rubaldino was its real head, but he worked  
with hidden caution as the apparent friend of either chieftain.  
In 1287, after some sharp contests, both of them abdicated, for  
the sake, as it was alleged, of public tranquillity; but, soon  
perceiving their error, again united, and, scouring the streets  
with all their followers, forcibly re-established their  
authority. Ruggieri seemed to assent quietly to this new outrage,  
even looked without emotion on the bloody corpse of his favorite  
nephew, who had been stabbed by Ugolino; and so deep was his  
dissimulation, that he not only refused to believe the murdered  
body to be his kinsman's, but zealously assisted the Count to  
establish himself alone in the government, and accomplish  
Visconte's ruin. The design was successful; Nino was overcome and  
driven from the town, and in 1288 Ugolino entered Pisa in triumph  
from his villa, where he had retired to await the catastrophe.  
The Archbishop had neglected nothing, and Ugolino found himself  
associated with this prelate in the public government; events now  
began to thicken; the Count could not brook a competitor, much  
less a Ghibelline priest: in the month of July both parties flew  
to arms, and the Archbishop was victorious. After a feeble  
attempt to rally in the public palace, Count Ugolino, his two  
sons, Uguccione and Gaddo, and two young grandsons, Anselmuccio  
and Brigata, surrendered at discretion, and were immediately  
imprisoned in a tower, afterwards called the Torre della fame,  
and there perished by starvation. Count Ugolino della  
Gherardesca, whose tragic story after five hundred years still  
sounds in awful numbers from the lyre of Dante, was stained with  
the ambition and darker vices of the age; like other potent  
chiefs, he sought to enslave his country, and checked at nothing  
in his impetuous career; he was accused of many crimes; of  
poisoning his own nephew, of failing in war, making a disgraceful  
peace, of flying shamefully, perhaps traitorously, at Meloria,  
and of obstructing all negotiations with Genoa for the return of  
his imprisoned countrymen. Like most others of his rank in those  
frenzied times he belonged more to faction than his country, and  
made the former subservient to his own ambition; but all these  
accusations, even if well founded, would not draw him from the  
general standard; they would only prove that he shared the  
ambition, the cruelty, the ferocity, the recklessness of human  
life and suffering, and the relentless pursuit of power in common  
with other chieftains of his age and country. Ugolino was  
overcome, and suffered a cruel death; his family was dispersed,  
and his memory has perhaps been blackened with a darker coloring  
to excuse the severity of his punishment; but his sons, who  
naturally followed their parent's fortune, were scarcely  
implicated in his crimes, although they shared his fate; and his  
grandsons, though not children, were still less guilty, though  
one of these was not unstained with blood. The Archbishop had  
public and private wrongs to revenge, and had he fallen, his  
sacred character alone would probably have procured for him a  
milder destiny."  
Villani, VII. 128, gives this account of the imprisonment: "The  
Pisans, who had imprisoned Count Ugolino and his two sons and two  
grandsons, children of Count Guelfo, as we have before mentioned,  
in a tower on the Piazza degli Anziani, ordered the door of the  
tower to be locked, and the keys to be thrown into the Arno, and  
forbade any food should be given to the prisoners, who in a few  
days died of hunger. And the five dead bodies, being taken  
together out of the tower, were ignominiously buried; and from  
that day forth the tower was called the Tower of Famine, and  
shall be forever more, For this cruelty the Pisans were much  
blamed through all the world where it was known; not so much for  
the Count's sake, as on account of his crimes and treasons he  
perhaps deserved such a death, but for the sake of his children  
and grandchildren, who were young and innocent boys; and this  
sin, committed by the Pisans, did not remain unpunished."  
Chaucer's version of the story in the Monkes Tale is as follows:

"Of the erl Hugelin of Pise the langour  
There may no tonge tellen for pitee.  
But litel out of Pise stant a tour,  
In whiche tour in prison yput was he,  
And with him ben his litel children three,  
The eldest scarsely five yere was of age:  
Alas! fortune, it was gret crueltee  
Swiche briddes for to put in swiche a cage.

Dampned was he to die in that prison,  
For Roger, which that bishop of Pise,  
Had on him made a false suggestion,  
Thurgh which the peple gan upon him rise,  
And put him in prison, in swiche a wise,  
As ye han herd; and mete and drinke he had  
So smale, that wel unnethe it may suffise,  
And therwithal it was ful poure and bad.

And on a day befell, that in that houre,  
Whan that his mete wont was to be brought,  
The gailer shette the dores of the toure;  
He hered it wel, but he spake right nought.  
And in his herte anon ther fell a thought,  
That they for hunger wolden do him dien;  
Alas! quod he, alas that I was wrought!  
Therwith the teres fellen fro his eyen.

His yonge sone, that three yere was of age,  
Unto him said fader, why do ye wepe?  
Whan will the gailer bringen our potage?  
Is ther no morsel bred that ye do kepe?  
I am so hungry, that I may not slepe.  
Now wolde God that I might slepen ever,  
Than shuld not hunger in my wombe crepe;  
Ther n'is no thing, sauf bred, that mo were lever.

Thus day by day this childe began to crie,  
Till in his fadres barme adoun it lay,  
And saide, farewel, fader, I mote die;  
And kist his fader, and dide the same day.  
And whan the woful fader did it sey,  
For wo his armes two he gan to bite,  
And saide, alas! fortune, and wala wa!  
Thy false whele my wo all may I wite.

His children wenden, that for hunger it was  
That he his armes gnowe, and not for wo,  
And sayden: fader, do not so, alas!  
But rather ete the flesh upon us two.  
Our flesh thou yaf us, take our flesh us fro,  
And ete ynough: right thus they to him seide,  
And after that, within a day or two,  
They laide hem in his lappe adoun, and deide.

Himself dispeired eke for hunger starf.  
Thus ended in this mighty Erl of Pise:  
From high estat fortune away him carf.  
Of this tragedie it ought ynough suffice;  
Who so wol here it in a longer wise,  
Redeth the grete poete of Itaille,  
That highte Dante, for he can it devise  
Fro point to point, not o word wol he faille."

Buti, Commento, says: "After eight days they were removed from  
prison and carried wrapped in matting to the church of the Minor  
Friars at San Francesco, and buried in the monument, which is on  
the side of the steps leading into the church near the gate of  
the cloister, with irons on their legs, which irons I myself saw  
taken out of the monument."

22\. The remains of this tower," says Napier, Florentine History, I.  
319, note, "still exist in the Piazza de' Cavalieri, on the right  
of the archway as the spectator looks toward the clock."  
According to Buti it was called the Mew, "because the eagles of  
the Commune were kept there to moult."  
Shelley thus sings of it, Poems, III. 91:

"Amid the desolation of a city,  
Which was the cradle, and is now the grave  
Of an extinguished people, so that pity  
Weeps o'er the shipwrecks of oblivion's wave,  
There stands the Tower of Famine. It is built  
Upon some prison-homes, whose dwellers rave  
For bread, and gold, and blood: pain, linked to guilt,  
Agitates the light flame of their hours,  
Until its vital oil is spent or spilt;  
There stands the pile, a tower amid the towers  
And sacred domes; each marble-ribbed roof,  
The brazen-gated temples, and the bowers  
Of solitary wealth! The tempest-proof  
Pavilions of the dark Italian air  
Are by its presence dimmed,-they stand aloof,  
And are withdrawn,-so that the world is bare,  
As if a spectre, wrapt in shapeless terror,  
Amid a company of ladies fair  
Should glide and glow, till it became a mirror  
Of all their beauty, and their hair and hue,  
The life of their sweet eyes, with all its error,  
Should be absorbed till they to marble grew."

30\. Monte San Giuliano, between Pisa and Lucca. Shelley, Poems,  
III. 166:  
"It was that hill whose intervening brow Screens Lucca from the  
Pisan's envious eye, Which the circumfluous plain waving below,  
Like a wide lake of green fertility, With streams and fields and  
marshes bare, Divides from the far Apennine, which lie Islanded  
in the immeasurable air."

31\. The hounds are the Pisan mob; the hunters, the Pisan noblemen  
here mentioned; the wolf and whelps, Ugolino and his sons.

46\. It is a question whether in this line chiavar is to be  
rendered nailed up or locked. Villani and Benvenuto say the tower was  
locked, and the keys thrown into the Arno; and I believe most of  
the commentators interpret the line in this way. But the locking  
of a prison door, which must have been a daily occurrence, could  
hardly have caused the dismay here portrayed, unless it can be  
shown that the lower door of the tower was usually left unlocked.  
"The thirty lines from Ed io senti' are unequalled," says Landor,  
Pentameron, 40, by any other continuous thirty in the whole  
dominions of poetry."

80\. Italy; it being an old custom to call countries by the  
affirmative particle of the language.

82\. Capraia and Gorgona are two islands opposite the mouth of the  
Arno. Ampere, Voyage Dantesque, 217, remarks: "This imagination  
may appear grotesque and forced if one looks at the map, for the  
isle of Gorgona is at some distance from the mouth of the Arno,  
and I had always thought so, until the day when, having ascended  
the tower of Pisa, I was struck with the aspect which the Gorgona  
presented from that point. It seemed to shut up the Arno. I then  
understood how Dante might naturally have had this idea, which  
had seemed strange to me, and his imagination was justified in my  
eyes. He had not seen the Gorgona from the Leaning Tower, which  
did not exist in his time, but from some one of the numerous  
towers which protected the ramparts of Pisa. This fact alone  
would be sufficient to show what an excellent interpretation of a  
poet travelling is."

86\. Napier, Florentine History, I. 313: "He without hesitation  
surrendered Santa Maria a Monte Fuccechio, Santa Croce, and Monte  
Calvole to Florence; exiled the most zealous Ghibellines from  
Pisa, and reduced it to a purely Guelphic republic; he was  
accused of treachery, and certainly his own objects were  
admirably forwarded by the continued captivity of so many of his  
countrymen, by the banishment of the adverse faction, and by the  
friendship and support of Florence. "

87\. Thebes was renowned for its misfortunes and grim tragedies,  
from the days of the sowing of the dragon's teeth by Cadmus, down to  
the destruction of the city by Alexander, who commanded it to be  
utterly demolished, excepting only the house in which the poet  
Pindar was born. Moreover, the tradition runs that Pisa was  
founded by Pelops, son of King Tantalus of Thebes, although it  
derived its name from "the Olympic Pisa on the banks of the  
Alpheus."

118\. Friar Alberigo, of the family of the Manfredi, Lords of  
Faenza, was one of the Frati Gaudenti, or Jovial Friars, mentioned in  
Canto XXIII. 103. The account which the Ottimo gives of his  
treason is as follows: "Having made peace with certain hostile  
fellow- citizens, he betrayed them in this wise. One evening he  
invited them to supper, and had armed retainers in the chambers  
round the supper-room. It was in summer-time, and he gave orders  
to his servants that, when after the meats he should order the  
fruit, the chambers should be opened, and the armed men should  
come forth and should murder all the guests. And so it was done.  
And he did the like the year before at Castello delle Mura at  
Pistoia. These are the fruits of the Garden of Treason, of which  
he speaks." Benvenuto says that his guests were his brother  
Manfred and his (Manfred's) son. Other commentators say they were  
certain members of the Order of Frati Gaudenti. In 1300, the date  
of the poem, Alberigo was still living.

120\. A Rowland for an Oliver.

124\. This division of Cocytus, the Lake of Lamentation, is called  
Ptolom aea from Ptolomeus, 1 Maccabees xvi. 11, where "the  
captain of Jericho inviteth Simon and two of his sons into his  
castle, and there treacherously murdereth them"; for "when simon  
and his sons had drunk largely, Ptolomee and his men rose up, and  
took their weapons, and came upon Simon into the  
banqueting-place, and slew him, and his two sons, and certain of  
his servants."  
Or perhaps from Ptolemy, who murdered Pompey after the battle of  
Pharsalia.

126\. Of the three Fates, Clotho held the distaff, Lachesis spun  
the thread, and Atropos cut it.  
Odyssey, XI.:

"After him I perceived the might of Hercules, an image; for he  
himself amongst the immortal gods is delighted with banquets, and  
has the fair-legged Hebe, daughter of mighty Jove, and golden-  
sandalled Juno."

137\. Ser Branco d'Oria was a Genoese, and a member of the  
celebrated Doria family of that city. Nevertheless he murdered at table  
his  
father-in-law, Michel Zanche, who is mentioned Canto XXII. 88.

151\. This vituperation of the Genoese reminds one of the bitter  
Tuscan proverb against them: "Sea without fish; mountains without  
trees;  
men without faith; and women without shame."

154\. Friar Alberigo.

Canto 34

1\. The fourth and last division of the Ninth Circle, the Judecca, -

"the smallest circle, at the point Of all the Universe, where  
Dis is seated."  
The first line, "The banners of the king of Hell come forth," is  
a parody of the first line of a Latin hymn of the sixth century,  
sung in the churches during Passion week, and written by  
Fortunatus, an Italian by birth, but who died Bishop of Poitiers  
in 600. The first stanza of this hymn is,-

"Vexilla regis prodeunt,  
Fulget crucis mysterium,  
Quo carne carnis conditor,  
Suspensus est patibulo."

See K,onigsfeld, Latenische Hymnen und Ges,ange aus dem  
Mittelalter, 64.

18\. Milton, Parad. Lost, V. 708:-

"His countenance as the morning star, that guides  
The starry flock."

28\. Compare Milton's descriptions of Satan, Parad. Lost, I. 192,  
589, II. 636, IV. 985:-

"Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate,  
With head uplift above the wave, and eyes  
That sparkling blazed; his other parts besides  
Prone on the flood, extended long and large,  
Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge  
As whom the fables name of monstrous size,  
Titanian, or Earth-born, that warred on Jove,  
Briareus, or Typhon, whom the den  
By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast  
Leviathan, which God of all his works  
Created hugest that swim the ocean stream:  
Him, haply, slumbering on the Norway foam,  
The pilot of some small night-foundered skiff,  
Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell,  
With fixed anchor in his scaly rind  
Moors by his side under the lee, while night  
Invests the sea, and wished morn delays.  
So stretched out huge in length the Arch-fiend lay  
Chained on the burning lake."

"He, above the rest  
In shape and gesture proudly eminent,  
Stood like a tower: his form had yet not lost  
All her original brightness, nor appeared  
Less than archangel ruined, and the excess  
Of glory obscured: as when the sun new-risen  
Looks through the horizontal misty air,  
Shorn of his beams; or from behind the moon,  
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds  
On half the nations, and with fear of change  
Perplexes monarchs: darkened so, yet shone  
Above them all the Archangel."

"As when far off at sea a fleet descried  
Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds  
Close sailing from Bengala or the isles  
Of Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bring  
Their spicy drugs: they on the trading flood  
Through the wide AEthiopian to the Cape  
Ply, stemming nightly toward the pole: so seemed  
Far off the flying fiend."

"On the other side, Satan, alarmed,  
Collecting all his might, dilated stood,  
Like Teneriff or Atlas, unremoved:  
His stature reached the sky, and on his crest  
Sat horror plumed; nor wanted in his grasp  
What seemed both spear and shield."

38\. The Ottimo and Benvenuto both interpret the three faces as  
symbolizing Ignorance, Hatred, and Impotence. Others interpret  
them as signifying the three quarters of the then known world,  
Europe, Asia, and Africa.

45\. Ethiopia; the region about the Cataracts of the Nile.

48\. Milton, Parad. Lost, II. 527:-

"At last his sail-broad vans  
He spreads for flight, and in the surging smoke  
Uplifted spurns the ground."

55\. Landor in his Pentameron, 527, makes Petrarca say:  
"This is atrocious, not terrific nor grand. Alighieri is grand by  
his lights, not by his shadows; by his human affections, not by  
his infernal. As the minutest sands are the labors of some  
profound sea, or the spoils of some vast mountain, in like manner  
his horrid wastes and wearying minutenesses are the chafings of a  
turbulent spirit, grasping the loftiest things, and penetrating  
the deepest, and moving and moaning on the earth in loneliness  
and sadness."

62\. Gabriele Rossetti, Spirito Antipapale, I. 75, Miss Ward's  
Tr., says:

"The three spirits, who hang from the mouths of his Satan, are  
Judas, Brutus, and Cassius. The poet's reason for selecting those  
names has never yet been satisfactorily accounted for; but we  
have no hesitation in pronouncing it to have been this,-he  
considered the Pope not only a betrayer and seller of  
Christ,-`Where gainful merchandise is made of Christ throughout  
the livelong day,' (Parad. 17,) and for that reason put Judas  
into his centre mouth; but a traitor and rebel to Caesar, and  
therefore placed Brutus and Cassius in the other two mouths; for  
the Pope, who was originally no more than Caesar's vicar,  
became his enemy, and usurped the capital of his empire, and the  
supreme authority. His treason to Christ was not discovered by  
the world in general; hence the face of Judas is hidden,-`He  
that hath his head within, and plies the feet without' (Inf. 34);  
his treason to Caesar was open and manifest, therefore Brutus  
and Cassius show their faces. "  
He adds in a note: "The situation of Judas is the same as that of  
the Popes who were guilty of simony."

68\. The evening of Holy Saturday.

77\. Iliad, V. 305: "With this he struck the hip of AEneas, where  
the thigh turns on the hip."

95\. The canonical day, from sunrise to sunset, was divided into  
four equal parts, called in Italian Terza, Sesta, Nona, and Vespro,  
and varying in length with the change of season. "These hours, "  
says Dante, Convito, III. 6, "are short or long...according as  
day and night increase or diminish." Terza was the first division  
after sunrise; and at the equinox would be from six till nine.  
Consequently mezza terza, or middle tierce, would be half past seven.

114\. Jerusalem.

125\. The Mountain of Purgatory, rising out of the sea at a point  
directly opposite Jerusalem, upon the other side of the globe. It  
is an island in the South Pacific Ocean.

130\. This brooklet is Lethe, whose source is on the summit of the  
Mountain of Purgatory, flowing down to mingle with Acheron, Styx,  
and Phlegethon, and form Cocytus. See Canto XIV. 136.

138\. It will be observed that each of the three divisions of the  
Divine Comedy ends with the word "Stars," suggesting and  
symbolizing endless aspiration. At the end of the Inferno Dante  
"re-beholds the stars"; at the end of the Purgatorio he is "ready  
to ascend to the stars"; at the end of the Paradiso he feels the  
power of "that Love which moves the sun and other stars." He is  
now looking upon the morning stars of Easter Sunday.

WHAT WAS HAPPENING IN THE WORLD WHILE DANTE LIVED

1265 May.

Dante, son of Alighieri degli Alghieri and Bella, is born at Florence.  
Of his own ancestory he speaks in Paradise, Canto XV. and XVI.  
In the same year, Manfred, king of Naples and Sicily, is defeated and  
slain by Charles of Anjou. H. XVII.13, and Purg. II. 110  
Guido Novello of Polenta obtains the sovereignty of Ravenna. H. XVII. 38.  
Battle of Evesham. Simon de Montfort, leader of the barons,  
defeated and slain.

1266

Two of the Frati Godenti chosen arbitrators of the differences of  
Florence. H. XXIII. 104  
Gianni de' Soldanieri heads the populace in that City. H. XXXII. 118.  
Roger Bacon sends a copy of his Opus Majus to Pope Clement IV.

1268

Charles of Anjou puts Conradine to death, and becomes king of Naples.  
H. XXVIII. 16, and Purg. XX. 66.

1270

Louis IX of France dies before Tunis. His widow Beatrice, daughter of  
Raymond Berenger, lived till 1295. Purg. VII. 126. Par. VI 135.

1272

Guy de Montfort murders Prince Henry, son of Richard, king of the  
Romans, and nephew of Henry II of England, at Viterbo. H. XII. 119.  
Richard dies, as is supposed of grief for this event.  
Abulfeda, the Arabic writer is born.  
Henry III of England is succeeded by Edward I. Purg. VII. 129

1274

Our Poet first sees Beatrice, daughter of Folco Portinari.  
Rodolph acknowledged emperor.  
Phillip of France marries Mary of Brabant, who lived till 1321.  
. 24.  
Thomas Aquinas dies. Purg. XX.67, and Par. X. 96.  
Buonaventura dies. Par. XII. 26.

1275

Pierre de la Brosse, secretary to Phillip III of France, executed.  
Purg. VI. 23.

1276

Giotto, the painter, is born. Purg. XI. 95.  
Pope Adrian V dies. Purg. XIX. 97.  
Guido Guinicelli, the poet, dies. Purg. XI. 96, and XXVI. 83.

1277

Pope John XXI dies. Par. XII. 126.

1278

Ottocar, king of Bohemia, dies. Purg. VII. 97.  
Robert of Gloucester is living at this time.

1279

Dionysius succeds to the throne of Portugal. Par. XIX. 136.

1280

Albertus Magnus dies. Par X. 95.  
Our Poet's firend, Busone da Gubbio, is born about this time.  
William of Ockham is born about this time.

1281

Pope Nicholas III dies. H. XIX. 71.  
Dante studies at the universities of Bologna and Padua.  
About this time Ricordano Malaspina, the Florentine annalist, dies.

1282

The Sicilian vespers. Par. VII. 80.  
The French defeated by the people of Forli. H. XXVII. 41.  
Tribaldello de' Manfredi betrays the city of Faenza. H. XXII. 119.

1284

Prince Charles of Anjou is defeated and made prisoner by Rugier de  
Lauria, admiral to Peter II of Arragon. Purg. XX. 78.  
Charles i, King of Naples, dies. Purg. VII. 111.  
Alonzo X of Castile dies. He cause the Bible to be translated into  
Castillian, and all legal instruments to be drawn up in that language.  
Sancho IV succeeds him.

1284

Phillip (next year IV of France) marries Jane, daughter of Henry of  
Navarre. Purg. VII. 102.

1285

Pope Martin IV dies. Purg. XXIV. 23.  
Philip III of France and Peter of Arragon die. Purg. VII. 101 and 110.  
Henry II, king of Cyprus, comes to the Throne. Par. XIX. 144.  
Simon Memi, the painter, celebrated by Petrarch, is born.

1287

Guido dalle Colonne (mentioned by Dante in his De Vulgari Eloquio)  
writes "The War of Troy."  
Pope Honorius IV dies.

1288

Haquin, king of Norway, makes war on Denmark. Par. XIX. 135.  
Count Ugolino de' Gherardeschi dies of famine. H. XXXIII. 14.  
The Scottish poet, Thomas Learmouth, commonly called Thomas the Phymer,  
is living at this time.

1289

Dante is in the battle of Campaldino, where the Florentines defeat the  
people of Arezzo, June 11. Purg. V. 90.

1290

Beatrice dies. Purg. XXII. 2.  
He serves in the war waged by the Florentines upon the Pisans, and is  
present at the surrender of Caprona in the autumn. H. XXI. 92.  
Guido dalle Conne dies.  
William, marquis of Montferrat, is made prisoner by his traitorous  
subject, at Alessandria in Lombardy. Purg. VII. 133.  
Michael Scott dies. H. XX. 115.

1291

Dante marries Gemma de' Donati, with whom he lives unhappily.  
By this marriage he had five sons and a daughter.  
Can Grade della Scala is born, March 9. H. I. 98. Purg. XX. 16 Par.  
XVII. 75 and XXVII. 135.  
The renegade Christians assist the Saracens to recover St. John D'Acre.  
H. XXVII. 84.  
The Emperor Rodolph dies. Purg. VI. 104, and VII. 91.  
Alonzo III of Arragon dies, and is succeeded by James II. Purg. VII.  
113, and Par. XIX. 133.  
Eleanor, widow of Henry II, dies. Par. VI. 135.

1292

Pope Nicholas IV dies.  
Roger Bacon dies.  
John Baliol, king of Scotland, crowned.

1294

Clement V abdicated the papal chair. H. III. 56.  
Dante writes his Vita Nuova.  
Fra Guittone d'Arezzo, the poet, dies. Pirg. XXIV. 56.  
Andrea Taffi, of Florence, the worker in Mossic, dies.

1295

Dante's preceptor, Brunetto Latini, dies. H. XV. 28.  
Charles Martel, king of Hungry, visits Florence. Par. VIII. 57,  
and dies the same year.  
Frederick, son of Peter III of Arragon, becomes king of Sicily.  
Purg. VII 117, and Par. XIX. 127.  
Taddeo, the physician of Florence, called the Hippocratean, dies.  
Par. XII. 77.  
Marco Polo, the traveler, returns from the East to Venice.  
Ferdinand IV of Castile comes to the throne. Par. XIX. 122.

1296

Forese, the companion of Dante, dies. Purg XXIII. 44.  
Sadi, the most celebrated of the Persian writers, dies.  
War between England and Scotland, which terminates in the submission  
of the Scotts to Edward I; but int he following year, Sir William Wallace  
attempts the deliverance of Scotland. Par. XIX. 121.

1298

The Emperor Adolphus falls in battle with his rival, Albert I,  
who succeeds him in the Empire. Purg. VI. 98.  
Jacopo da Varagine, archbishop of Genoa,  
author of the Legenda Aurea, dies.

1300

The Bianca and Mera parties take their rise in Pistoia. H. XXXII. 60.  
This is the year in which he supposes himself to see his Vision. H. I.  
1\. And XXI. 109.  
He is chosen chief magistrate, or first of the Priors of Florence; and  
continues in  
the office from June 15 to August 15.  
Guido Cavalcanti,ost beloved of our Poet's friends, dies. H. X. 59, and  
Purg. XI. 96.  
Cimabue, the painter, dies. Purg. XI. 96.

1301

The Bianca Party expels the Nera from Pistoia. H. XXIV. 142.

1302

January 27.  
During his absence at Rome, Dante is mulcted by his fellow-citizens  
in the come of 8,000 lire, and condemned to two years banishment.  
March 10. He is sentencd, if taken, to be burned.  
Fulcieri de' Calboli commits great atrocities on certain of the  
Ghibelline party. Purg. XVI 61.  
Carlino de' Pazzi betrays the castle di Piano Travigne, in Valdarno, to  
the Florentines. He. XXXII. 67.  
The French vanquished in the battle of Coufgfal. Purg. XX. 47  
James, King of Majorca and Minorea, dies. Par. XIX. 133.

1303

Pope Boniface VIII dies. H. XIX. 55. Purg. XX. 86. ; XXXII. 146, and  
Par. XXVII.  
The other exiles appoint Dante one of a council of twelve, under  
Alessandro da Romena.  
He appears to have been much dissatisfied with his colleagues. Par.  
XVII. 61.  
Robert of Brunne translates into English verse the Manuel de Peches,  
a treatise written in French by Robert Grosseteste, Bishop of Lincoln.

1304

Dante joins with the exiles in an unsuccessful attack on the city of  
Florence.  
May. The bridge over the Arno breaks down during a representation of  
the infernal torments exhibited on that river. H. XXVI. 9.  
July 20. Petrarch,whose father had been banished two years before from  
Florence, is born in Arezzo.

1305

Winceslaus II, king of Bohemia, dies. Purg. VII. 99 and Par. XIX. 123.  
A conflagration happens at Florence. H. XXVI. 9.  
Sir William Wallace is executed at London.

1306  
Dante visits Padua.

1307  
He is in Lunigians with the Marchese Marcello Malaspina. Purg. VII.  
133; XIX. 140.  
Dolcino, the fanatic,is burned. H. XXVIII. 53.  
Edward II of England comes to the throne.

1308

The Emperor Albert I murdered. Purg. VI. 98, and Far. XIX. 114.  
Corso Donati, Dante's political enemy, slain. Purg. XXIV. 81.  
He seeks an asylum at Verona, under the roof of the Signori della  
Scala, Par. XVII. 69.  
He wanders, about this time. Over various parts of Italy.  
See his Convito. He is at Paris a second time; and, according to one  
of the early commentators, visits Oxford.  
Robert, the patron of Petrarch, is crowned king of Sicily. Par. IX. 2.  
Duns Scotus dies. He was born about the same time as Dante.

1309

Charles II, king of Naples, dies. Par. XIX. 125.  
1310 The order of the Templars abolished. Pur. XX. 94.  
{?}ean de Meun, the continuer of the Roman de la Rose, dies about this  
time.

Pier Crescensi of Bologna writes his book on agriculture, in Latin.

1311

Fra Giordan da Rivalta, of Pisa, a Dominican, the author of sermons  
esteemed for the purity of the Tuscan language, dies.

1312

Robert, king of Sicily, opposes the coronation of the Emperor Henry  
VII. Par. VIII. 59.  
Ferdinand IV of Castile dies, and is succeded by Alonzo XI.  
Dino Compagni, a distinguished Florentine, concluded his history of his  
own time, written in elegant Italian.

1313  
The Emporor Henry of Luxemburgh, bu whom he had hoped  
to be restored to Florence, dies.  
Par. XVII. 80, and XXX. 133.  
Henry is succeeded by Lewis of Bavaria.  
Dante takes refuge at Ravenna, with Guido Novello da Polenta.  
Giovanni Boccaccio is born.  
Pope Clememnt V dies. H. XIX. 86, and Par. XXVII 53, and XXX. 141.

1314

Philip IV of France dies. Purg. VII. 108, and Par. XIX. 117.

1314

Louis X Succeeds.  
Ferdinand IV of Spain dies. Par. XIX. 122.  
Giacopo da Carrara defeated by Can Grande,  
who makes himself master of Vicenza. Par. IX. 45.

1315

Louis X of France Marries Clemenza, sister to our Poet's friend,  
Charles Martel, King of {?}Hungary. Par. IX. 2.

1316

Louis X of France dies, and is succeeded by Philip V.  
John XXIV elected Pope. Par. XXVII. 53.  
Joinville, tghe French Historian, dies about this time.

1320

About this time John Gower is born,  
eight years before his friend Chaucer.

1321 July.

Dante dies at Ravenna, of a complaint brought on by  
disappointment at his failure in a negotiation which  
he had been conducting witht he "Venetians, for his  
patron Guido Novella da Polenta.  
His obsequies are sumptuously performed at Ravenna by Guido,  
who himself died in the ensuing year.

THE ARGUMENT

(Or The Prose Story in Brief) of That Part of "The Divine Comedy"  
Which is called "Hell"

Canto 1. The writer, having lost his way in a gloomy forest, and  
being hindered by certain wild beasts from ascending a mountain,  
is met by Virgil, who promises to show him the punishments of  
Hell, and afterward of Purgatory; and that he shall then be  
conducted by Beatrice into Paradise. He follows the Roman poet.

Canto 2 After the invocation, which poets are used to prefix to  
their works, he shows that, on a consideration of his own strength,  
he doubted whether it sufficed for the journey proposed to him,  
but that, being comforted by Virgil, he at last took courage, and  
followed him as his guide and master.

Canto 3 Dante, following Virgil, comes to the gate of Hell;  
where, after having read the dreadful words that are written  
thereon, they both enter. Here, as he understands from Virgil,  
those were punished who passed their time (for living it could  
not be called in a state of apathy and indifference both to  
good and evil. Then pursuing their way, they arrive at the  
river Acheron; and there find the old ferryman Charon, who  
takes the spirits over to the opposite shore; which as soon as  
Dante reaches, he is seized with terror, and falls into a trance.

Canto 4 The Poet, being roused by a clap of thunder and  
following his guide, onward, descends into Limbo, which is the  
first circle of Hell, where he finds the souls of those, who  
although they have lived virtuously and have not to suffer for  
great sins, nevertheless, through lack of baptism, merit not  
the bliss of Paradise. Hence he is led on by Virgil to descend  
into the second circle.

Canto 5 Coming tot he seconds circle of Hell, Dante at the  
entrance beholds Minos the Infernal Judge, by whom he is  
admonished to beware how he enters those regions. Here he  
witnesses the punishment of carnal sinners, who are tossed about  
ceaselessly in the dark air by the most furious winds. Among  
these, he meets with Fracesca of Rimini, through pity at whose  
sad tale he falls fainting to the ground.

Canto 6 On his recovery, the Poet finds himself in the third  
circle, where the gluttonous are punished. Their torment is, to  
lie in the mire, under a continual and heavy storm of hail, snow  
and discolored water; Cerberus meanwhile barking over them  
with his threefold throat, and rending them piecemeal. One of  
these, who on earth was named Ciacco, foretells the division  
with which Florence is about to be distracted. Dante proposes  
a question to his guide, who solves it; and they proceed toward  
the fourth circle.

Canto 7 In the present Canto, Date described his descent into  
the fourth circle, at the beginning of which he sees Plutus  
stationed. Here one like doom awaits the prodigal and the  
avaricious; which is, to meet in direful conflict, rolling great  
weights against each other with mutual upbraiding. From  
hence Virgil takes occasion to show how vail the goods that  
are committed into the charge of Fortune; and this moves our  
author to inquire what being that Fortune is, of whom he speaks;  
hich question being resolved, they go down into the fifth circle,  
where they find the wrathful and gloomy tormented in the  
Stygian Lake. Having made a compass round a great part of  
this lake, they come at last to the base of a lofty towner.

Canto 8 A signal having been made from the tower, Phlegyas,  
the ferryman of the lake, speedily crosses it, and conveys  
Virgil and Dante to the other side. On their passage, they  
meet with Filippe Argenti, whose fury and torment are described.  
Then they arrive at the city of Dis, the entrance whereto is denied,  
and the portals closed against them by many Demons.

Canto 9 After some hindrances, and having seen the hellish  
furies and other monsters, the Poet, by the help of an angle,  
enters the city of Dis, wherein he discovers that heretics are  
punished in tombs burning with intense fire; and he, together with  
Virgil, passes onward between the sepulchers and walls of the city.

Canto 10 Dante having obtained permission from his guide, holds  
discourse with Farinata degli Uberti and Cavalcante Cavalcanti,  
who lie in their fiery tombs that are yet open, and not to be closed  
up till after the last judgement. Farinata predicts the Poet's exile  
from  
Florence; and shows him that the condemned have knowledge  
of future things, but are ignorant of what is at present passing,  
unless it be revealed by some new-comer from earth.

Canto 11 Dante arrives at the verge of a rocky precipice which  
incloses the seventh circle, where he sees the sepulcher of  
Anastasius the Heretic; behind the lid of which, pausing a little,  
to make himself capable by degrees of enduring the fetid smell  
that steamed upward from the abyss, he is instructed by Virgil  
concerning the manner in which the three following circles are  
disposed, and what description of sinners is punished in each.  
He then inquires the reason why the carnal, the gluttonous, the  
avaricious and prodigal, the wrathful and gloomy, suffer not their  
punishments within the city of Dis. He next asks how the crime  
of usury is an offense against God; and at length the two Poets go  
toward the place from whence a passage leads down to the seventh  
circle.

Canto 12 Descending by a very rugged way into the seventh  
circle, where the violent are punished, Dante and his leader  
find it guarded by the minotaur; whose fury being pacified  
by Virgil, they step downward from crag to crag; till, drawing  
near the bottom, they descry a river of blood, wherein are  
tormented such as have committed violence against their  
neighbor. At these, when they strive to emerge from the brook,  
a troop of Centaurs, running along the side of the river, aim their  
arrows; and three of their band opposing our travelers at the  
foot of their band opposing our travelers at the foot of the steep,  
Virgil prevails so far, that one consents to carry them both  
across the stream; and on their passage Dante is informed by  
him of the course of the river, and of those that are punished therein.

Canto 13 Still in the seventh circle, Dante enters its second  
compartment, which contains both those who have done  
violence on their own persons and those who have violently  
consumed their goods; the first changed into rough and knotted  
trees whereon the harpies build their nests, the latter chased  
and turn by black female mastiffs. Among the former,  
Piero delle Vigne is one who tells him the cause of his having  
committed suicide, and moreover in what manner the souls are  
transformed into those trunks. Of the latter crew, he recognizes  
Lano, a Siennese and Giacomo, a Paduan: and lastly, a Florentine,  
who had hung himself from his own roof, speaks to him of the  
calamities of his countrymen.

Canto 14 They arrive at the beginning of the third of those  
compartments into which this seventh circle is divided.  
It is a plain of dry and hot sand, where three kinds of  
violence are punished: namely, against God, against Nature,  
and against Art; and those who have thus sinned are tormented  
by flakes of fire, which are eternally showering down upon  
them. Among the violent against God is found Capaneus  
whose blasphemies they hear. Next, turning to the left  
along the forest of self-slayers, and having journeyed a little  
onward, they meed with a streamlet of blood that issue from  
the forest and traverses the sandy plain. Here Virgil speaks to  
our Poet a huge ancient statue that stands within Mount Ida  
in Crete, from a fissure in which statue there is a dripping of  
tears, from which the said streamlet, together with the tree  
other infernal rivers are formed.

Canto 15 Taking their way upon one of the mounds by which the  
streamlet, spoken of in the last Canto, was embanked, and having  
gone so far that they could no longer have discerned the forest if  
they had turned round to look for it, they meet a troop  
of spirits that come along the sand by the side of the pier.  
These are they who have done violence by Nature; and  
among them Dante distinguishes Brunetto Latini, who had  
been formerly his master; with whom, turning a little  
backward, he holds a discourse which occupies the reminder  
of this Canto.

Canto 16 Journeying along the pier, which crosses the sand, they  
are now so near the end of it as to hear the noise of the stream  
falling to the eighth circle, when they meet the spirits of three  
military men; who judging Dante, from his dress, to be a  
countryman of theirs, entreat him to stop. He complies, and  
speaks with them. The two Poets then reach the place where  
the water descends, being the termination of this third  
compartment in the seventh circle; and here Virgil having  
thrown down into the hollow a cord, wherewith Dante was girt,  
they behold at that signal a monstrous and horrible figure  
come swimming up to them.

Canto 17 The monster Geryon is described; to whom while  
Virgil is speaking in order that he may carry them both  
down to the next circle, Dante, by permission, goes a  
little further along the edge of the void, to descry the third  
species of sinners contained in this compartment, namely,  
those who have done violence to Art; and then returning to  
his master they both descend, seated on the back of Geryon.

Canto 18 The Poet describes the situation and form of the eighth  
circle, divided into ten gulfs, which contain as many different  
descriptions of fraudulent sinners; but in the present Canto he  
treats only of two sorts; but in the present Canto he treats  
only of two sorts: the first is of those who, either for their own  
pleasure or for that of another, have seduced any woman from  
her duty; and these are scourged of demons in the first gulf;  
the other sort is of flatterers, who in the second gulf are condemned  
to remain immersed in filth.

Canto 19 They come to the third gulf, wherein are punished  
those who have been guilty of simony. These are fixed with  
the head downward in certain apertures, so that no more of  
them than the legs appears without, and on the soles of their  
feet are seen furling flames. Dante is taken down by his guide  
into the bottom of the gulf; and there finds Pope Nicholas the  
fifth, whose evil deeds, together with those of the other pontiffs,  
are bitterly reprehended. Virgil then carries him up against to the  
arch, which affords them a passage over the following gulf.

Canto 20 The Poet relates the punishment of such as presumed,  
while living, to predict future events. It is to have their faces  
reversed and set contrary way on their limbs, so that, being  
deprived of the power to see before them, they are constrained  
ever to walk backward. Among these Virgil points out to him  
Amphiaraus, Tiresias, Aruns, and Manto (from the mention of  
whom he takes occasion to speak of the origin of Mantua), together  
with several others, who had practiced the arts of divination and  
astrology.

Canto 21 Still in the eighth circle, which bears the name of  
Malebolge, they look down from the bridge that passes over its  
fifth gulf, upon the barterers or public peculators. These are  
plunged in a lake of boiling pitch, and guarded by Demons,  
to whom Virgil, leaving Dante apart, presents himself;  
and license being obtained to pass onward, both pursue their way.

Canto 22 Virgil and Dante proceed, accompanied by the  
Demons, to see other sinners of the same description in the  
same gulf. The device of Ciampolo, one of these to escape  
from the Demons, who had laid hold on him.

Canto 23 The enraged Demons pursue Dante, but he is preserved  
from them by Virgil. On reaching the sixth gulf, he beholds  
the punishment of the hypocrites; which is, to pace continually  
round the gulf under the pressure of caps and bonds, that are gilt  
on the outside, but leaden within. He is addressed by two of these,  
Catalano and Loderingo, knights of Saint Mary, otherwise called  
Joyous Friars of Bologna. Calaphas is seen fixed to a cross on the  
ground and lies so stretched along the way, that all tread on him i  
n passing.

Canto 24 Under the escort of his faithful master, Dante not  
without difficulty makes his way out of the sixth gulf; and  
in the seventh, see the robbers tormented by venomous and  
pestilent serpents. The soul of Vanni Fucci, who had pillaged  
the sacristy of Saint James in Pistola, predicts some calamities  
that impended over that city, and over the Florentines.

Canto 25 The sacrilegious Fucci vents his fury in blasphemy, is  
seized by serpents, and flying is pursued by Cacus in the form  
of a Centaur, who is described with a swarm of serpents on his  
haunch, and a dragon on his shoulders breathing forth fire.  
Our Poet then meets with the spirits of three of his countrymen,  
two of who undergo a marvelous transformation in his presence.

Canto 26 Remounting by the steps, down which they had  
descended to the seventh gulf, they go forward to the arch  
that stretches over the eighth, and from thence behold  
numberless flames wherein are punished evil counsellors,  
each flame containing a sinner, save one, in which were  
Diomede and Ulysses, the latter relates the manner of his death.

Canto 27 The Poet, treating of the same punishment as in the  
last Canto, relates that he turned toward a flame in which was  
the Count Guido da Montefeltro, whose inquiries respecting  
the state of Romagna he answers, and Guido is thereby  
induced to declare who he is, and who condemned to that torment.

Canto 28 They arrive in the ninth gulf, where the sowers of  
scandal, schismatics, and heretics, are seen with their limbs  
miserable maimed or divided in different ways. Among these  
the Poet finds Mahomet, Piero da Medicina, Curio, Mosca, and  
Bertrand de Born.

Canto 29 Dante, at the desire of Virgil, proceeds onward to the  
bridge that crosses the tenth gulf, from whence he hears the  
cries of the alchemists and forgers, who are tormented therein;  
but not being able to discern anything on account of the  
darkness, they descend the rock, that bounds this the last of  
the compartments in which the eighth circle is divided, and  
then behold the spirits who are afflicted by divers plagues and  
diseases. Two of them, namely, Grifolion of Arezzo and  
Capocchio of Sienna, are introduced speaking.

Canto 30 In the same gulf, other kinds of impostures, as those  
who have counterfeited the persona of others, or debased  
the current coin, or deceived by speech under false pretenses,  
are described as suffering various diseases. Sinon of Troy,  
and Adamo of Brescia, mutually reproach each other with their  
various impostures.

Canto 31 The poets, following the sound of a loud horn, are led  
by it to the ninth circle, in which there are four rounds, one incised  
within the other, and containing as many sorts of Traitors; but  
the present Canto shows only that the circle is encompassed  
with Giants, one of whom Antaeus, takes them both in his arms  
and places them at the bottom of the circle.

Canto 32 This Canto treats of the first, and, in part, of the  
second of those rounds, into which the ninth and last, or frozen  
circle, is divided. In the former, called Caina, Date finds  
Camiccione de' Pazzi, who gives him an account of the sinners  
who are there punished; and in the next, named Antenora, he  
hears in like manner from Bocca degi Abbati who his  
fellow-sufferers are.

Canto 33 The Poet is told by Count Ugolino de' Cherardeschi of  
the cruel manner in which he and his children were famished  
in the tower at Pisa, by command of the Archbishop Ruggieri.  
He next discourses of the third round, called Ptolomea, wherein  
those are punished who have betrayed others under the semblance of  
kindness; and among these he finds the Friar Alberigo de' Manfredi,  
who tells him of one whose soul was already tormented in that  
place, though his body appeared still to be alive upon the earth, being  
yielded up to the governance of a fiend.

Canto 34 In the fourth and last round of the ninth circle, those  
who have betrayed their benefactors are wholly covered with ice.  
And in the midst is Lucifer, at whose back Dante and Virgil ascend,  
till by a secret path they reach the surface of the other hemisphere  
of the earth, and once more obtain sight of the stars.


End file.
